Phoenix Tears Rising
by Illeanah
Summary: Panicked Lily ancient potion Death Eater Raid magic adventure, time travel and the true meaning of family.
1. Chapter 1

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**A/N: Because this story encompasses three eras in each chapter especially in the beginnings, I will always give you the location, the date and time. Like all those military / spy programs on TV. I think it would make it so much easier for you to read and a bit of a quirk for my story! **

**Chapter One. To Swallow a Weapon**

**Department of Magical Mysteries, 29th October 1979, 10:19am **

It had started just like any other ordinary day. Lily Evans had walked the streets of London; picked up an apple strudel for breakfast before making her way to her job.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Even the sky was a plain grey wisp characteristic of normal London weather. She secretly thought her sister Petunia would approve on the 'normalness' dull grey of London town.

That last thought brought up the roaring row Lily had, had with Petunia the night before over the telephone. It had ended up in tears, Petunia declining Lily's invitation to her December wedding and screaming at the top of her lungs she never wanted to see Lily's abnormal face again.

Lily touched her face sadly with one hand. She could never see how Petunia, her once devoted elder sister, thought her abnormal. Even Sirius Black, James' best friend never picked on her insecurities. 'Probably never picked on my too large nose because he's afraid of James,' Lily thought, closing her eyes.

Lily wanted to know where it had all gone wrong. What had she done to deserve such scorn from her sister? Secretly she blamed Vernon, her sister's loud mouth, opinionated, self righteous pig of a husband.

Dinner at her sister's place was always an interesting affair, which usually acquired plenty of tense silence, followed by a pinch of jealous remarks and ended up with a fight and Lily being kicked out of the house.

Since their father death a year ago, dinner at Petunia's was a rare event now that she did not have to keep up appearances of getting along with Lily to please her senile father. But Lily still received an invitation now and then, usually so Petunia could show off her new show case kitchen or bathroom or tell Lily all her faults.

Lily sighed in frustration and kicked at the pale grey pavement. She should never have brought James to Petunia's; that was looking for disaster.

James of course was no push over. His parents had brought him up as a strong character who never took belittling from no one. And he always stood up for his rights; a part of the reason they had joined the Order of the Phoenix in the first place.

Well Vernon was not too pleased when James retorted to his every remark with biting sarcasm. Eventually however Vernon went too far and James blew his lid… literally.

Lily had held onto her chair for dear life when the lights started flickering; a sure sign James was at his boiling point. Then Vernon's thumb started to grow, and then his hand and then… Well suffice to say Vernon was blown up like a helium balloon. And James was out the door fuming before Lily could count slowly backwards from ten.

James' early departure from Petunia's delightful dinner party meant that it was Lily who fixed Vernon up, amongst all the fat man's profanity. And that was how Vernon discovered that she Lily Jane Evans, soon to be Potter, was a freak, a witch, an outcast from her own family.

Lily kicked another spot of the pavement. She wished she had been the one to blow Vernon too-perfect Dursely up!

Finally reaching a plain, boring, red telephone box Lily entered and closed the door behind her. She shook her head at the brand new security for the entrance of the Ministry of Magic and wondered who was the genius who thought of it in the first place?

Barely glancing at the dial, Lily pressed her delicate finger and starting mumbling numbers, "Six… two… four…four…two… I hope they change the password soon."

"Hello and welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

Typical even the operator sounded perkier than Lily felt.

"Lily Evans, Unspeakable for the Department of Magical Mysteries."

The bottom of the telephone box shuddered and Lily was sinking into the ground. She had to stop herself from humming the music of 'Get Smart' a muggle television show that James was particularly fond of. Soon Lily was emerged in darkness until she reached her floor. Overall it was much gentler than the floo network, which never failed to make her nauseous.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," the disembodied voice chirped.

"Suck up," Lily growled stepping through the now open doors. She found the telephone box had brought her directly to her floor.

"Lily, mi dear, all set for the wedding!" her bossed crowed from the other side of the room.

"Yes George, I'm ready," Lily grimaced as she made her way to her desk and plonked herself down.

One would think that working as an unspeakable would be interesting and exciting work. Not for Lily, everyday this last month or so she had to remind herself she was working here for the Order of the Phoenix and the war effort. The only problem was it was difficult to know what to slip to the Order and what not to. The oath before she had taken office had even forbidden her to gossip about her work mates, which made some of the rivalries especially hard to get through as you could not talk about it. But it was all for the Order.

James and herself had joined Albus Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix as soon as they left school. James was adamant about fighting Lord Voldemort and protecting 'society as we know it'. Lily had first agreed because she knew by disagreeing or arguing would only make James join another not-so-famous, not-so-skilled or not-so-safe society to fight Voldemort.

Personally Lily thought James wanted to wreck havoc while getting revenge for his parents' atrocious murder when he was in seventh year at school. She had to admit he was good at it, wrecking havoc and giving the Death Eaters a severe migraine. He was well loved in the Auror department.

"Whatsup? You don't look so good?" Her boss George was sitting on her desk. "Not pre-wedding jitters I hope."

Lily started and stared at him with wide eyes. "N-n-noo," Lily muttered, and to George she did not look convincing.

"James on another assignment is he, kiddo?"

Lily could only grimace in response and wish in vain that her boss would quit asking questions.

"He'll be fine, Lily mi dear," George continued.

Lily nodded her hear warily. Unspeakables might not be able to even talk about each other but that didn't mean Unspeakables didn't like to talk…

"Here I'll come and show you our new find," George prattled needlessly. "It's real historical, kiddo. You'll like it for sure."

George had said the magic word: historical. Lily lived for moments like these. She enjoyed history (when Binns wasn't teaching) and had read Hogwarts: A History, five times during her years at the magical school.

Lily pushed back her chair and nearly fell over her feet to follow her boss.

George was striding very quickly to the brand new holding room: donated ironically by Phoebus Malfoy who everyone seemed to know was a Death Eater except the Ministry of Magic. Rumour had it he was thinking running for Minister next term…

George unlocked the silver shiny doors with a few well aimed taps of his wand. The doors slid upon and they entered.

The room was sparse white and in the middle of the sparse white room was a pale white table on which was…

"A potion vial?" Lily asked incredulously picking it up.

"Careful, careful… Lord Voldemort would do anything to get his paws on this, Phoebus said!"

"A potion vial," Lily repeated. She couldn't help but sound a little disappointed. She had been wishing for an old manuscript, an old innate object or something relatively interesting…

"Read the label!" George was practically bursting out of his skin.

Lily turned the vial carefully and read. "Blood of Godric Gryffindor, blood of Salazar Slytherin bound and sealed by phoenix tears to give it life."

Well that was interesting…

George was looking like a hyper active child.

Lily felt dread curling in her stomach and very slowly she replaced the vial in the holder.

"George please don't tell me who let this slip," Lily said her voice wobbling.

George was looking sheepish. That was never a good sign.

"You're an Unspeakable you not supposed to talk about these things!" Lily burst forgetting for a moment she was talking to her boss.

"I only mentioned it to Phoebus and he won't tell anyone!"

Lily resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Honestly George was so dim witted sometimes. She didn't have time to open her mouth when the telephone box came crashing down.

George and Lily turned around in time to see the doors of the telephone box open. A row of Death Eaters emerge. At their head was old Phoebus Malfoy looking quite smug.

"I don't believe it," George muttered his wand falling helplessly by his side. "It's Phoebus."

Phoebus' cold eyes scanned the room and spotted Lily and George.

"Go take the potion and get out," George hissed.

Lily stared at him.

"Voldemort wants the potion, are you going to give it to him?"

Lily shook her head and grabbed the potion darting out another set of door just as she heard the death curse behind her and a soft thump. She whimpered and darted behind the desk.

"Dear sweet Lily, come out and give us the potion," Phoebus cried. Lily could hear his footsteps getting gradually closer. "We won't hurt you… much."

Lily heard the snickering of the death eaters as they slowly advanced. She knew they had little time to waste. It was daring to attack the Ministry it would be in a matter of minutes before the alarm was raised and aurors flooded the floor.

Lily let her eyes dart towards the potion vial which was cool against her fingertips. This was what they were after; this was what they would kill for. What if they could not get it?

Without thinking she uncorked the potion, pinched her nose and swallowed. It was foul on the tongue, salty and tangy. It was only after she had finished the vial she let her brain catch up with her.

What was she doing? This was an unknown substance. You just don't swallow a substance without knowing what it is you are swallowing. It could be poison.

Lily covered her mouth and nearly fainted from the mere thought. How typical that she would poison herself only six weeks or so from her wedding day!

Her eyes started to water and she felt particularly ill. A blearily black outline came into view.

She was vaguely aware of the death eater kneeling beside her. "She swallowed it. The little bitch swallowed the weapon."

Lily gagged.

"No use gagging now, darling," the death eater mumbled. "You'll have to take it to term."

"We should take her to the Dark Lord."

"She has solved the problem of finding a carrier for the weapon."

Lily swooned as she was roughly hurled to her feet. That was when the Aurors turned up…

For five minutes the room was full of spells, curses and hexes. Lily took cover cowering in fright tears streaming down her face. This was why she was not an Auror she'd never be able to handle the pressure.

The spells finally stopped but Lily lay immobile underneath a desk in shock.

"Lily!"

"Lils!"

"Lily!"

It was James. He wasn't supposed to be home until next Thursday. But Lily didn't care she had never been so thankful to hear his voice.

"James?"

James dashed around the corner to find Lily slumped under the desk. "Oh my… Lily are you okay? Where are you hurt? Do you need a healer?"

Lily vaguely listened to the lengthy list of questions James spurted almost all at once. She shook her head. "No… just feel bad… I just want to go home."

James was on his knees and squeezed her tightly against his broad muscly chest. She buried her nose in the crock of his neck and took a deep breath of his scent. Musky, warm and safe. She was safe. For now.

James lifted Lily to her feet and helped her to the fireplace. All the other Aurors watched grimly.

"George Jacobson is dead," one Auror said quiet loudly.

"What do you think the Death Eaters were after?"

The question was aimed at Lily even though that Auror was not facing her. "I could not say," Lily murmured. "I cannot say."

'

'

'

**Order of the Phoenix Headquarters, 29th October 1980, 07:43pm **

Lily waited impatiently on the couch at the headquarters. She had been sleeping most of the day feeling tired and worn. James had hovered nearby most of the time, since she had confessed she had swallowed an unknown substance.

Dumbledore was away on some obscure mission in the German Alps. And therefore James himself had to sought out his allusive nemesis to ask for help. Apparently Severus Snape was not pleased to be disturbed by a frantic James Potter. But according to James the surly potions git didn't take too much convincing to come and have a look at Lily.

"Where is he?" James muttered tapping his fingers on the couch. "He's late."

"It's only seven forty three," Lily pointed out calmly. "He has another seventeen minutes."

James sorted. "But he will be l…"

The fireplace came alive, warning James to cut off his remark. A moment later Snape arrive looking dour and serious as ever.

James turned to meet his old school rival. "You're early," James said accusingly. Lily rolled her eyes dramatically and flung herself into the couch.

"You're arrogant, Potter."

"Tea, Severus?" Lily asked cutting off James' retort.

Severus Snape glanced at her and curled his lips. "No," he snarled. "Thankyou," he added in as an after thought.

Lily watched Snape glide forward; as usual he was wearing his long billowy black robes, over his many buttoned black vest and slacks. His face was all business.

"You swallowed an unknown potion, Ms. Evans?"

Lily nodded and hung her head.

"Accident of drowning, forced down your throat by vile Death Eaters such as my…"

James had obviously had done some accusing when he went to ask Snape to help her. Lily hadn't told James exactly what had happened.

"Deliberately," Lily interjected; she had to stop herself from laughing as James' head shot up in surprise. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"I see," Snape drawled slowly, it was evident that in fact he did not see and so Lily was obliged to tell him the whole humiliating story from beginning to end.

"And you have the vial?" Snape asked immediately when she had finished.

Lily dug through her robes and gave Snape the vial. Snape regarded the label for a moment looking stunned, he glanced at the vial and then at Lily then back at the vial.

"You foolish girl," Snape hissed forgetting he was the same age as Lily. "Do you not know what you have swallowed?"

"If I knew I wouldn't be asking," Lily snapped feeling irritable.

Snape however was not to be baited he turned back to the fireplace and stared into the flames. "Symptoms will show themselves soon enough. You'll have to carry to term."

"That's what the Death Eater said," Lily replied feeling depressed realising what Snape was implying.

Snape nodded wearily and pinched his nose. "Just thank the heavens above you are a woman."

Lily glumly nodded and glanced down at her churning belly.

"What's this suppose to mean?"

"Let's just say your precious 'Lily flower', has brought history to life literally," Snape snarled before disappearing to the kitchen in a flurry of black robes. "And I'll have to be the one to make sure no harms comes to it."


	2. Potter Pumpkin Polyjuice Pops

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Two. Potter Polyjuice Pumpkin Pops**

**Diagon Alley, 25th June 1996, 11:58am **

Summer for Harry Potter was not so bad this year. With the Ministry unable to declare that Voldemort had not been resurrected, Harry was soon taken away from the Dursley's and to the Borrow.

It had been an interesting few weeks, since Voldemort had risen in the eyes of the Ministry. Harry for one received a gloss pamphlet by owl on security and protecting oneself. He quickly discarded the pamphlet, useless as it was, in his opinion it was like Lockhart his second year Defence teacher had written. Actually he wouldn't be surprised if Lockhart did write – apart from the fact he had obliviated himself.

The second interesting thing that happened was that Dumbledore himself had arrived to pick him up from Privet Drive and gave the Dursleys a good talking to. All in his very dangerous, wise, benevolent old man voice. To say it left his relatives stunned would be an understatement.

Harry had expected to be taken straight to Order Headquarters or somewhere safe, but no Dumbledore apparated to convince an old friend of Dumbledore to teach once more. Horace Slughorn was an interesting character, one time head of Slytherin, and knew how to pick the students who would succeed and support him later in life. Harry had a bad feeling Slughorn had his eyes set on him – as one would.

Most of his time was spent at the Burrow which was more subdued in some respects. Mrs. Weasley was very uptight on security matters that it was almost a laughing matter. Almost. She was driving her children almost to despair with her worrying.

The Ministry was in utter mayhem since news had broken out of Voldemort's return and as a result Mr. Weasley was working longer hours on top of his 'order business'. Harry could not help but think bitterly the Ministry brought trouble upon themselves; for they had wasted a whole year in which they could have prepared. Instead they had lulled themselves into a fine sense of security and did not take any warnings to heart. Instead they persecuted him.

So it was a fine boring Summer day when Harry found himself being pushed towards Fred and George's booming business at Diagon Alley. It was the large purple garish poster in the shop window that caught Harry's surprise:

_Why are you worrying about You-Know-Who?_

_You SHOULD be worrying about_

_U-No-Poo –_

_The Constipation Sensation that's gripping the Nation._

Harry could not help but laugh and glance over to Ron, who was grinning so wide his face nearly split in half. Mrs. Weasley looked distraught, so pale and trembling that Hermione took her to get some ice cream and settle down. The older witch didn't even protest by the lacking security of the ice-cream venture.

Harry and Ron had stared after Mrs. Weasley for a few moments. "I would hate to be the twins at the next Order meeting." Despite his words Ron was still grinning goofily.

"Are you going to warn them?"

Ron looked at Harry incredulously. "Are you _kidding_? Of course not."

Harry shook his head and glanced once more at the shop window so full of things moving, exploding and revolving. "You're brothers are mad. Come on."

Harry pushed through the doors and squeezed himself through the crowd.

"They're really raking it in aren't they?" Ron was practically drooling.

The shelves were crammed full of merchandise that Harry vaguely remembered the twins testing on the younger students. Shiving Snackboxes, Noosebleed Nougats and new items such as Farting Fudges and Bubblegum Belches.

There were the old trick wands in buckets in the corners ranging in various prices depending on what you wanted the wand to do. Harry was disappointed there wasn't a wand that exploded. Oh how would he love to give that to Malfoy, perhaps he should make a few suggestions.

There were oddments of quills, invisible ink, spell checkers and smart answers.

Harry did a three sixty glancing around the shop his stopped however when he saw a boy opening the lid on a great big fat glass jar. The label read: Edible Dark Marks – They'll Make anyone Sick. Harry could not believe the stupidity of this little kid. If you were going to steal something it would have to be something worth the trouble.

Harry shook his head wondering where on earth that thought had come from – it wasn't normally like him to start thinking devious thoughts.

"Pocket anything, you, and you'll pay in more than Galleons!" Fred had emerged from nowhere and had slammed the lid down heavily on the boy's wriggling fingers. The kid had squealed and tried to back away from Fred but found he couldn't move. Harry was very amused, even those the young boy's cheeks were tinged pink and his eyes watering. It was just plain funny seeing this kid suffer… Now where had this come from?

"Hello Harry," Fred said smiling still holding the lid down. "Alright there?"

"Sure. Great place," Harry mumbled.

George appeared by Fred's hands, wearing a garish magenta robes. "Hey let the pip squeak go."

Fred sighed heavily and lifted the lid. The boy grabbed his throbbing hand and cradled it to his chest before darting away. "Think he learned his lesson," Fred tsk-ed. Harry chuckled.

"So what do you think?" George asked suddenly spreading his hands and puffed out his chest, obviously asking about the robes.

Harry considered for a moment before hiding his smirk behind his hand. George looked absolutely ridiculous the magenta did not suit him at all it clashed terribly with his bright vivid red hair.

"What – er – look were you going for?" Harry asked thinking it was wise to be diplomatic.

George blinked at him owlishly, so Harry had to explain further. "They're um well… just a little outlandish don't you think? Maybe you should go for something not so… so… bright."

The twins exchanged glances both of them were now blinking owlishly.

"Wicked."

"I think we have found our uniform."

Harry was wishing he could smack his forehead instead he admitted defeat mentally and decided it was indeed like the twins to pick the worse looking uniform imaginable. They were running a joke shop after all.

"Well at least you can say your uniforms are a joke," Harry said weakly shaking his head.

"What's that suppose to mean?" George demanded.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and glanced around. "I've seemed to have lost Ron."

"Argh. Never mind Ron. We've got something to show you. Thought you would be the first to see…"

The twins lead Harry through the shop and out towards the back. He had the vague feeling he didn't want to know what was out the back of the twins' shop.

Fred was leading the way, grinning ear to ear so that Harry was almost certain his face would crack in half. George was pushing him from behind. "This way Harry, wait til you see!"

Yes, he was certain now the twins' enthusiasm boded only ill fortune for him. He was lead through a thick magenta curtain with thick trimmings of sparkling gold and silver fireworks and down some dark stairs.

"Ta da!" Fred was brandishing a silver tray with several small pasty orange pellets.

"I'm not going to try one," Harry said dryly crossing his arms against his chest.

"Well they wouldn't work on _you!_" George said slyly taking a pellet from the tray.

"They're our new invention, Potter Polyjuice Pumpkin Pops," Fred said proudly.

"Argh!" George spattered as he chewed thoughtfully on his Potter Polyjuice Pumpkin Pop. "They are disgusting. The pumpkin does nothing to do away with the horrid taste of polyjuice."

"They'll still sell well."

Harry was amused. "Why pumpkin?"

"Well," Fred started eyeing his brother with professional eagerness. "Why not? And besides it starts with 'p' all the good things in life have alliteration. Bloody Baron, Godric Gryffindor, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape… and now Potter Polyjuice Pumpkin Pops will join the ranks."

Harry raised his eyebrows and glanced at George who was patting his face thoughtfully. "Well do I make a good Potter?"

Harry shook his head. "Pitiful. You don't look much like me."

"I don't understand," Fred said his mouth hanging open. "It was perfect."

"Something obviously went wrong," Harry murmured. George looked absolutely nothing like him!

Where George was standing was a tall olive skinned boy, with sea green eyes, long silky calm black hair and a slender elegant frame. But it definitely wasn't Harry Potter.

Fred plucked a hair from Harry's scalp. "Here Harry give me a hair," he said belatedly. Harry scowled at him as Fred dropped his newly acquired Harry in a potion vial of polyjuice potion.

"Don't tell me you keep polyjuice around the place?" Harry shook his head said.

"Harry my dear friend, we are practical jokers. Never know when this stuff will come in handy," Fred replied calmly and matter-of-factly, before swallowing his polyjuice in one almighty gulp. Harry concluded that Fred must be related to Ron his mouth was sure big enough.

Harry leaned on the door frame setting off some fireworks and creating 'minor damage' while he watched Fred's face morph into the same face George was wearing. He sighed when Fred looked himself in a hand held mirror, which tried to punch him. The practical joker obviously didn't know what was wrong.

"Something's wrong with the Potter Polyjuice Pumpkin Pops," George said.

Fred was staring at Harry avidly. Harry had a sinking feeling that there wasn't anything wrong with the Potter Polyjuice Pumpkin Pops but rather with him.

"Look I would appreciate it if you don't mention this to anyone until I look into this," Harry blurted

The twins nodded in understanding. "It's not everyday one finds out that the reflection in the mirror isn't them," George said helpful.

Harry grimaced and Fred stamped on George's toe.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Silence reigned for a few moments.

"This can't be happening…" Harry muttered.

"Sure it can," said George. "Two galleons it's a glamour charm of some sort."

Harry snorted. Apparently the twins had not learned from their experiences of the Triwizard Tournament bangle with betting.

"It can't be a glamour!" Harry yelled stamping his foot, not particularly caring that it looked childish. "I look like my dad."

"Ah-ha. But you have admit it is rather…"

"Scary how much you look like James Potter."

"Bet anything he was jealous of the man who knocked your mum up before their wedding."

Harry was fuming but was so angry he couldn't open his mouth to yell. Why didn't people ever tell him these things?

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded.

"You're mum was married to your dad on December 31st 1979 and you were born on July 31st 1980… even Ron can do the maths."

Harry counted on his fingers anyway the months. "January, February, March, April, May, June, July…"

"Only seven months Harry," George said sympathetically. "Mum said she had to help alter Lily's wedding dress…. Quite distraught your mum was."

Fred made to stamp on his twin's foot but Harry bet it to him. "Shut up. You don't know anything about nothing!"

"Calm down mate," Fred soothed cajolingly. "I'm sure there is a logical explanation."

"Logical? I'm sure Harry knows how babies are made."

Harry stamped on George's foot again.

"Ouch!"

"I think you should shut up George before you land yourself in more trouble," Fred mumbled to his twin. Fred turned to Harry. "I'll get you a list of books we found helpful for polyjuice potions, glamours and disguises, unfortunately most of them are in the restricted section of the Hogwarts library."

Harry watched Fred refiling through some papers that were stacked haphazardly on a bench full of half full caldrons, vials, nick-knacks, fireworks and fake wands.

"Restricted section shouldn't be a problem," Harry murmured.

"Oh right the cloak," George murmured.

"Just don't get caught by Professor Snape," Fred said his hand wandering over his backside and handing Harry a parchment full of books and references. "Not the most benevolent of teachers."

"Don't worry, I won't," Harry said. "He won't catch me."

"Actually…" George looked thoughtful. Harry was ready to stamp on his foot again. Either that or hex him into next week. "Snape might just be your man."

Fred's mischievous eyes lit up. "Yeah if I remember rightly, which I don't remember at all because I was too young, Snape was in the thick of it. He was always checking in on your mother. Apparently it had something to do with research."

"_Research?"_ Harry looked disgusted. "Are you saying Snape's my dad?"

Both twins looked like they were either going to faint from mirth or loose their eyes because they were goggling Harry.

"Look no offence mate," Fred starting looking nervous.

"But Snape would not touch your mum with a ten foot pole it he could help it," George concluded.

"I mean, seriously Snape producing offspring. Hilarious mate!"

"Yes," Harry said dryly finding for the first time the twins' company irritating. "I'm tickled pink by the prospect," he added it a dead pan voice.

The twins glanced at each other nervously. "Look if you need a hand with research we'll be glad to help," Fred offered.

Harry shook his head. "You've been helpful enough, thanks," he replied before turning towards the stares and practically taking three at a time.

Harry stopped at the top of the stares and schooled his face to look just as happy and excited as everyone else in the shop. But really in the inside he wanted to run, run, run away from all this problems. And there was absolutely no way he was going to ask Professor Snape about the possibility of his father not being his father and making a fool of himself. No this was for him to work out on his own.


	3. Of Eccentric Old Men

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Three. Of Eccentric Old Men**

**Wales, Lord Hufflepuff's Estate, 29th October 1060, 12:14pm**

Lord Hufflepuff the ever devoted father of Helga Hufflepuff, the renowned witch who co-founded the greatest school in the wizarding world, was relaxing in the gardens of his grand castle. This castle was a wedding present from his old dear friend Erebus Prior who always been extravagant with gifts. Erebus didn't mind. It brought him many dear friends.

Lord Hufflepuff wheezed as he slowly made his way up to the 'outside room', where he could sit and drink his favourite mead without disturbance. The 'outside room' had been his idea originally. Just a room without a roof, wall covered in rose bushes and vines and expensive tapestries and a lovely comfortable chair to rest his weary bottom. The magic surrounding the room kept the weather out if it was unpleasant and to keep the furniture safe.

As he predicted, he was alone as he entered his room. He took a seat and felt almost every bone his body creak in protest as he sat in his chair.

Lord Hufflepuff glanced at one gaudy tapestry of gold and black that showed the founding of Hogwarts and sighed resignedly. Helga had made it for him, bless the child, but she just did not have the talent for women's craft. It was disastrously ugly but Helga had insisted it hung in his favourite, private room. And he didn't have the gall to tell his daughter that it was unsuitable and grotesque. He valued his life too much to come under the wand point of his ravishing but easily angered daughter.

Lord Hufflepuff's musings was interrupted by a familiar wheezing and heavy breathing. He didn't need to turn his head to greet whoever interrupted him. "Good afternoon, Badger."

Badger, ironically was a badger, and had been his faithful familiar and family mascot for years. Hufflepuff watched sadly while the old animal lumbered over and sat over his boots to drool.

"Becoming old, my friend, are we?" Hufflepuff murmured as he heartily slapped Badger's sides. The old badger glanced up at his master longingly before resting his nose back down and snorting heavily as if resigned to his fate.

Hufflepuff ran his fingers through the animal's fur but Badger did not shift. "Badger my friend you are grey as me." There was another snort of apathy.

"We'll both be in the grave soon," Hufflepuff continued. Badger looked up dolefully before rolling over.

"You're not supposed to eat sweet meats and you know it, Badger," Hufflepuff said as he threw a sweet meat at his furry friend.

Badger seemingly ignored his master and nosed the sweet meat, snuffling heavily before gulping it down and looking at his master once more with doleful eyes. "Very well only one more…"

A tray of sweet meats later Badger was snoozing on Lord Hufflepuff's boots, drooling happily as he was dreaming of his glorious young days. Lord Hufflepuff was resigned to snoring in his chair, mouth wide open, with half a goblet of mead left.

"Milord…"

Hufflepuff groaned menacingly before blinking opening one annoyed looking blue eye. His young steward, Stuart, was standing over him.

"Yes?" Lord Hufflepuff growled.

Stuart smiled warmly at his master. "You asked me to wake you if Erebus Prior requested to see you, milord. Well he's waiting in the parlour so I woke you up."

Lord Hufflepuff opened his second eye and shifted his old body in such a way that he woke Badger up. "I know what I asked you to do, impertinent boy!" Hufflepuff snapped, silently cursing his old, broken body and the stiffness in his muscles.

Stuart didn't even flinch from his master's ire. "Would you like a hand milord?"

Hufflepuff looked to the unwrinkled, unmarred hand of his servant and glanced into the handsome beardless face. "I don't need your help child," he snapped, shifting once more.

Stuart withdrew respectfully but there was still a slight smile on his face. Lord Hufflepuff scowled; even his servants didn't take him seriously any more. He shifted and stood up permanently disturbing Badger who grunted at him in displeasure.

"Merlin boy, help me up," Hufflepuff grudging scowled admitting defeat.

Stuart stepped forward dutiful and helped his master to his feet. "I am old," Hufflepuff groaned.

Stuart did his best to suppress the roll of his eyes; his master was increasingly in melancholy moods.

"And you are so young and handsome… the rest of your life before you… and so healthy," Hufflepuff muttered under his breath as Stuart lead him by the arm.

"But you are good and kind, Milord. Generous, wise and well respected. You have lived a good life," Stuart said boldly.

"How is it you put up with me, muggle lad?" Hufflepuff groaned.

"Your compassion saved me though I be a lowly muggle wretch," Stuart said wistfully. "I was scarred, bruised, beaten to near death by my own people, they thought I was a wizard… ha me? _Stupid Stuart_… But Milord you took me and cared for me while I lay so near death I could feel the brush of angels' wings."

Hufflepuff snorted. "I can go my way from here… help Badger would you, like a good muggle lad?"

Stuart nodded knowing his master was often embarrassed when he sung his praises. He dipped his head and turned around to see Badger quite a while away, short legs pumping fast, grunting heavily as he ambled along to follow his master. Quite used to his master's familiar Stuart went to the tired animal and picked him in his arms.

"Master has been giving you sweet meats again. You know you shouldn't beg, Badger," Stuart scolded the animal lightly as he waddled under the load of the overweight familiar after his master.

Lord Hufflepuff found Erebus Prior, an old friend of his, sitting in his audience chamber as if he owned the place.

"Gladus, my friend," Erebus boomed as he saw his old friend. He opened his arms to embrace his ally. "You are looking well."

Lord Hufflepuff glanced over his friend. As usual Erebus was wearing his long black cloak. It was well known that Erebus Prior potions master only ever wore black. It had been years, Hufflepuff noted since he had seen his friend. Erebus' sleek brown hair was now freckled with grey, his hands seemed more clawed then before.

Hufflepuff offered his friend a seat as Stuart entered with a rather content looking Badger. Stuart sat Badger at his master's feet and backed away his head bowed, but he was distinctly smiling. "Some mead if you please, Stuart."

Stuart hastened to obey under Erebus Prior's scrutiny. "What happened to Albert?"

"Herbert?" Hufflepuff reiterated. Erebus for all his generosity often looked down upon the servants. The servants in turn gossiped about Erebus whose sanity was often publicly debated amongst them.

"Psch! Herbert is such a common name… but what can one expect from a servant." Stuart placidly placed the mead in front of Erebus and then offered it to his master.

"Herbert died many years ago," Hufflepuff muttered. Erebus was so carefree with details, for Herbert was many years Lord Hufflepuff's senior.

"Where did you get this bairn from?"

"Stuart is hardly a small child, Erebus," Hufflepuff returned. "Lets just say I stumbled upon him a few years ago."

"Muggle then?"

Hufflepuff surpressed a groan; Erebus liked muggles much less than he liked servants. He clearly saw Stuart tense but wisely the steward did not say anything to him.

"Stuart looks after this grumpy old man," Hufflepuff said over the rim of his goblet, watching Stuart's cheeks redden.

"He's what twelve!" Erebus cried.

"Fifteen with a steady head on his shoulders."

Erebus snorted. "I suppose that is fine. Only a muggle, and worthy of a house elf's task. Couldn't possibly leave it to our species."

"So what have you been up to?" Hufflepuff asked suddenly to get Erebus off his banter. Stuart retreated to the corner, head carefully bowed in case his master called upon him.

"Ah now that is interesting." The way to distract Erebus was to talk about his work. And because Erebus Prior liked to talk, mainly about himself, he often forgot what had gotten his ire in the first place.

"It has come to my attention that I'm getting old, with a child to inherit. Not that I'm particularly bothered about that small detail. I mean once I'm dead who cares who gets my goods and shackles… And children are such nasty noisy things. Just ask your daughter Hilred next time you see her…."

"Helga…"

"Yes, yes. So I became interested in the process of conception through to birth. Developed many interesting potions, including those that cause almost painful lust, potions that ensure the child conceive through union is a boy… why would parents want little whiny girls."

"I think little girls are wonderful, pretty, delightful creatures. Wouldn't you agree, Stuart?"

Stuart's head snapped up as if in surprise, he gazed wide eyed at his master. "Yes of course, sir."

Erebus predictably brushed Stuart's answer. "There was a potion that causes a foetus to abort if the father does not wish it…"

"Hah! How awful!" Hufflepuff exclaimed horrified. Erebus of course was not to notice.

"Oh and now this is top secret at the moment. I've found a way that a child can be created using potion ingredients and blood from any number of fathers… mothers are not important in the genic make up of a child. Of course I prefer working with two male parents and binding their magical signatures to make a son."

"Tell me more," Hufflepuff said sternly.

"Well I've collected the blood of many famous wizards discreetly this year. Only managed to make one potion that should work if a female should drink… I pull the magic signature or core from the blood bind it to phoenix tears, which I've spent a fortune on add a few other ingredients to create this wonderful potion. Literally it is life. All you need is a female to drink and she will conceive the wizard's child that same day. Of course she is only a carrier and will have no effect over the child at all. I could use a heifer and it would not affect the child. Probably not a good idea at these early stages of research however. It's complicated wouldn't expect you to understand. Now all I need is an unsuspecting, healthy, young female to take the potion and conceive this child."

Hufflepuff was beginning to question his friend's sanity along with his servants. This was horrendous, what his friend had done. He had changed somewhat over the years he had not seen him. He had always been judgemental, arrogant and proud. But now Hufflepuff was disgusted.

"Tell me," Hufflepuff murmured leaning forward feigning delight and curiosity at the same time disturbing Badger. "Who are the fathers of this potion?"

"Child, Hufflepuff, child, I created life."

Hufflepuff rolled his eyes.

"Why the fathers are none other than Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin….Onto the main reason I'm visiting. You wouldn't have a young maid servant I could borrow for… ah… nine months or so?"

'

'

'

**Wales, Lord Hufflepuff's Estate, 29th October 1060, 8:02pm **

"Well?" Hufflepuff asked as soon as Stuart entered the room carrying a small supper. Stuart refused to look at his lord he had been uncomfortable and jittery since Erebus Prior had gone on to explain what his life potion would do to a young male. Very carefully Stuart placed the silver tray by Hufflepuff's elbow.

"What do you think of Erebus?" Lord Hufflepuff asked.

Stuart looked up at his master in surprise but a clear question glistened in his eyes.

"Don't worry, my dear lad, I won't let Erebus experiment on you no matter how interested I seemed."

Stuart let out a sigh of relief.

"You wouldn't be able to carry Badger for me if you were pregnant by potion."

Stuart looked horrified.

"Peace lad, I'm teasing. I tease when I'm overwrought. Now come and take a seat beside me and let's conspire."

Stuart very slowly took a seat his head bowed.

"What should I do?" Lord Hufflepuff asked.

"You won't give him Maisy to use the potion on, will you?" Stuart asked.

Hufflepuff snorted. "Of course not. But how to stop the old fool?"

"Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin are colleagues of Mistress Helga's?"

"Yes, yes, even Salazar would like you, you're okay as a muggle," Hufflepuff said wistfully.

"You are close friends with Sala…erm his Lordship Lord Slytherin, father of Salazar aren't you?" Stuart inquired.

Hufflepuff nodded.

"Then I'm sure Lord Slytherin could stop him. I do not imagine he would be pleased that his son's magical whatever has been mushed together to create a child creating liquid."

Hufflepuff's head snapped up. "That's it. Erebus has always been petrified of Saladin Slytherin and Saladin will be able to make sure Erebus does not cause any further damage… Stuart my quill and Mr Quiggles."


	4. As the Seventh Month Dies

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Four. As the Seventh Month Dies**

**Order of the Phoenix Headquarters, July 31st 1980, 1:12 am**

Lily had been feeling contractions all afternoon. The baby parasite inside of her had made sure to let her know he was ready to greet the world. Snape, as to his instructions had been called immediately when the contractions had started. This in itself had caused problems.

Snape and James had become unbearable over the last nine months. Snape could not help but rub James' nose into the fact that the baby was not his. James had made a show of not caring, stating only Lily's health was his concern. Lily knew otherwise. It gnawed at James, like a thorn in his mind he could not help but regret the new life they were greeting into the world was not his seed.

It had come as a shock to Lily to learn from Snape a few months into the parasite's growth that he was not really hers. She was not his mother. She was only a carrier for a period of nine months and a milk bar until he was old enough to ween.

That was the day Snape had given her a journal to write her experiences down, he seemed genuinely sorry for her that day. He wasn't his normal professional, emotionless robot he normally was around her. He didn't even sneer when she had burst into floods of tears; he pattered her arm and left her a present.

When Albus Dumbledore accused Snape of compassion, the raven hair potions expert defended himself by saying it was in the potion baby's best interest not to have a distraught carrier. Overall Snape had been careful around her, made sure he only teased James when she was not present and acted as if he was walking on egg shells around her.

That was also the day the baby had become 'parasite' in her mind. It was absolutely awful to think she was not carrying James' child and this child had no links to her in consolation. No she was being used to be feed upon, used and abused. These thoughts stayed in her mind gnawing and sucking away at her sanity.

This baby had ruined her wedding day. Her wedding dress was far from perfect even though it had hidden the tell tale bump. He had made her feel sick and miserable. He was causing her great pain…

Lily gasped and gripped at James's squeezing hard as she could. She wished that she could shout at her poor husband for getting her in this position like all those glamorous wives on television but that luxury was not given to her.

She was currently laying on a make shift bed in the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters or to be more specific on a transfigured lounge somewhere in London. She glanced over her bulging belly and between her spade legs. There were only two others in the 'delivery room'.

Snape surly watched in displeasure; evidently he was not interesting in the birthing process. Lily knew his presence was necessary in case the potion had in fact affected her or the baby.

Poppy, the new mediwitch at Hogwarts, was the other. Lily scowled at the bustling woman as she looked between her legs. "Deep breaths honey, can see the baby's head… not long…"

"Arrrggghhh!" Lily cried. "This fiend is going to KILL ME!"

"I highly doubt that dearie," Poppy said patting her arm. "Deep breaths and push."

Snape calmly folded his potions periodical slowly and stood taking his place by James' side. It would be he as the resident potions master who would inspect the baby and not Poppy. He found himself smiling smugly and darted his eyes to the door where he was sure Sirius Black was standing ear pressed to the door.

Sirius had wanted access to the birth and yet Lily demanded quite loudly between contractions for him to get his doggy backside out of the way. Remus was probably by his friend side comforting his wounded ego. He smirked, remembering the look on Sirius' face when he realised that Snape would be there and yet he was denied. Lily's complaining was almost worth it.

"PUSH!" came Poppy's command.

"ARRRGGGHHH!" Lily screamed clamping down on James' hand so that he visible winced. "Oh…!" Lily breathed a sigh of relief as a baby's cries were heard. "Oh that little bugger hurt!"

Snape smirked as Poppy wiped the squirming, red mass of baby clean with a flick of her wand. He stepped forward and took the bawling, naked baby and glanced down. Glancing up he saw James sitting on the edge of his seat, wide eyed waiting for the verdict. The opportunity was too good to miss. James was nervous and this could be used against him.

Snape lowered his head with slow deliberately movements and counted the infants toes and fingers sluggishly.

James shifted but Snape did not look up. His nemesis was becoming infuriated very quickly but was trying to behave in front of his spouse. It was torture and Snape was enjoying every moment of it and the infant's squalling was only putting James more on edge.

"Baby's nose is squashed," Snape commented.

"What does that mean?" James demanded his knuckles turning white from holding onto his seat too tight.

"Nothing," Snape said. "I was just making a comment."

Snape slowly stalked to Lily's side and placed the naked bundle on her chest. "Feed him he's hungry."

Lily stared at Snape incredulously and then at the infant who was attempting to squall with his tiny fist in his mouth. "He's beautiful," Lily murmured.

Snape rolled his eyes. In his opinion there was nothing beautiful or remotely nice looking about the red piece of flesh that was torturing his ear drums. He looked away as Lily unbuttoned her nightie and attached the child to her breast. He waited for the suckling sounds indicating that the tiny mouth was working against his carrier's nipples. Poppy used this time to discreetly leave and tell people the good news.

"There is nothing wrong with the baby or with Lily," Snape said with his face averted. "The child is in perfect health."

James wordlessly nodded his thanks; true to form Snape ignored him.

"You better decide soon whether or not you want to keep him, Dumbledore wants his answer."

Lily glanced towards her husband and then at the baby who was sucking quite contentedly that she was surprised it hadn't drowned itself on her milk.

"Erebus Prior knows nothing about his potion," Lily commented touching the silky black fuzz on top of the baby's head. The infant's sea green jewel like eyes rolled back and paused before suckling once more. "You could tell it was a man who created this potion."

"How is that, Mrs. Potter?" Snape demanded as he retrieved his periodicals.

"I am his mother. No matter what Erebus and yourself imply. I birth him and he is apart of me," Lily said she turned her emerald eyes towards James. "Can you not love him?"

James looked at the infant who was blinking contentedly. "If he is a part of you… no problem sweet heart."

Snape suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly James Potter was a romantic prat.

James took the small child in his arms and Lily buttoned her nightie. For a moment James stood and rearranged the child in his strong seeker arms in pensive thought. Then he pulled out his wand and waved it over the child. A gold light engulfed the child for a moment before disappearing.

"James what have you done!" Lily cried sitting up in bed despite her exhaustion. She held out her arms for her baby.

James smiled sadly and handed the infant back to his 'mother'. "A glamour. He shall grow as a Potter, not a Slytherin."

Lily looked down at her baby, dark emerald eyes looked up at her. "Oh James," Lily muttered thickly. "What have you done?"

"Destroyed any hope of you having a handsome son, I would think," Snape snarled from his corner.

"Shut up Snape," James snarled back just as viciously. "You wouldn't understand."

Snape shook his oily head. "You're right I don't understand. The child's fathers are long dead, ancient wizards of old, he is in no danger and you selfishly take away his identity."

James seemed unmoved.

"His fathers were Salazar and Godric!" Snape hissed. "Fine breeding that is!"

"All you would care about isn't you pure blood sadist," James hurled back.

"I'm not the one who covered his prestigious heritage so I wouldn't have to face the fact the child is from the most illustrious wizarding lines there are!"

James snorted and looked down at the child. "I'm sure Harry doesn't mind looking like a Potter and not his Slytherin father."

Snape stopped short. _"Harry?"_

"Yes, Harry after my father. What's it to you?"

Snape snorted and laughed. "The boy should have a more appropriate name."

"Harry is a cute name," Lily pointed out lazily blinking. Despite the activity of the room her exhaustion was putting her to sleep. She hadn't really been listening to James' and Snape's bickering.

"He needs a Slytherin name," Snape hissed dangerously. "A name to make his _real _father proud, Aries, Pierce or Emrys anything is better than _Harry_."

"He's right, Godric Salazar Potter… or Salazar Godric Potter," Lily murmured her head lolling to the side.

James took the infant and placed him in the cot. "His-name-is-Harry-James-Potter," James said between clenched teeth.

Snape looked at his old school foe blinking wondering why he was trying to defend the infant who was unfortunate enough to have James Potter for his 'father'. "Your funeral," he said stepping out of the room his robes billowing out behind him.

"Harry's cute," Lily said in her dreams.

"Glad you agree with me, Lily Flower," James murmured to the empty room and pecking his wife's cheek.

'

'

'

**Order of the Phoenix Headquarters, July 31st 1981, 10:46am **

It had been one year to the day since the first potion vial baby was born. Severus Snape was fuelled by curiosity of the possibility that he had since done research on creating babies. Muggles, he was disgusted to find, had beaten the wizarding worlds to it. The first 'test tube' baby was born in 1978 and it was cold comfort the she child was born in Britain.

Since the birth of the child, Harry, Snape had little to do with the Potters. It would be the first time in months that he would see little Harry and be reminded of the monstrosity that James had performed on him when he was not minutes old.

Tightening his grip on the handle of his wand, Snape firmed his resolve. It was not right, he believed, to shame Salazar Slytherin's name by giving his child a face of a Gryffindorish face, lest of all a face of a Potter.

Snape greeted the gathered Order with his habitual sneer and swept past, ignoring Remus Lupin's attempt to offer him a Firewhiskey. He needed more than a strong Firewhiskey he decided seeing as he was voluntarily at Order Headquarters on its birthday. The Potters were sure to be there along with their friends to celebrate.

As suspected Snape spotted James Potter smoking, no choking, on a cigar with his pal Sirius. He snorted diversely, James Potter didn't have a commanding bone in his body even through his pure blood and an auror. Honestly the man seemed quite distraught when Snape announced 'his' first born would be a pure blood despite his carrier's lacking blood ties.

Snape stood in the corner watching people bustle about and wondered how on earth he was going to get Harry alone.

His answer was soon answered but none other than Lily Potter herself. She was looking good Snape had to admit, with Harry sitting wide eyed on her hip. He however was not ready for the pretty red haired witch to approach him with a large smile.

"Severus, could you look after Harry for a moment?"

Before Snape could reply in either the affirmative or negative, Lily thrust the baby into his arms and disappeared. "Thanks you're a darl."

Black orbs looked into emerald green, before the baby giggled at him and blew hearty raspberries. Didn't James teach his 'son' any respect for his elders?

Then it struck him. He had Harry; no one was looking his way. This was a good opportunity.

Snape carried Harry at arms length towards the lounge room. Sitting the infant on the couch Snape studied him. As much as he hated to admit it, James Potter had done an excellent job with the glamour charm. Snape suspected it had to do with James' training as a transfiguration expert.

Snape contemplated his next move, twirling his wand in his long elegant potion stained fingers, he was never one for foolish wand waving.

Harry on the other hand was quickly becoming bored. "Itch!" he announced. Snape said nothing.

"Itch!" Harry repeated.

Snape continued to twirl his wand.

"Itch, itch, itch…IIITTTCCCHHH!" Harry demanded.

Snape raised his eyebrow in response. "Indeed," he drawled not knowing what to say as he was not fluent in baby gargle.

Harry however seemed quite pleased with Snape's response and blew another particularly wet raspberry.

Snape cast his first spell without much affect on the child. Harry looked up him innocently smiling toothlessly and bouncing up and down on his nappy clad bottom.

Snape tried another spell. Still there was no result.

He tried another and another and another. Still there was no result expect Harry bouncing with gusto and a putrid smell in the air.

Snape glared at the infant. "Please tell me you didn't, Mr. Potter," he drawled tonelessly.

Harry was grinning and continued bouncing, which was now accompanied by a squelching sound and Harry's happy cries of. "Poopy!"

Snape was not sure if he should be amused or disgusted. He decided on disgusted.

"Poopy! Poopy! PPoooopppiiiiieeee!" Harry gargled.

Snape was holding his large croaked nose and breathing heavily out of his mouth. He had never known that babies could be so toxic. Send Voldemort a dirty diaper and the war would soon be over. Argh! The smell.

"What's going on here?"

Snape thought he would never see the day when he was relieved to see James Potter's beaming, boyish face. "HERE!" Snape cried picking up Harry and holding him as far from his body as possible so that the infant's feet dangled in mid air. "Your brat has a present for you."

"Dada! Itch!" Harry screeched holding out his miniscule dirty hands.

James took Harry up threw him in the air and caught him. "Yes Daddy will play snitch with you later."

Snape had to stop himself in mid eye roll. Typical Potter playing a stupid child's game called Snitch with his child. There was no hope for this child. He could grow up to be the worse imaginable Gryffindor possible.

James then did something that caught Snape off his guard and the potion expert nearly caught himself for admiring the Gryffindor's courage. He turned Harry around and peeked down his nappy. "Ah it's a bludger in there!" James announced.

"Bugger! Bugger!" Harry repeated clearly delighted as he clapped his chubby hands.

Snape could not believe it; James had used a Quidditch name to describe baby excrement! Was everything James thought of Quidditch? With those last thoughts Snape did the only Slytherin thing left to do.

He fled.


	5. Imaginings of a Creator

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Five. Imaginings of a Creator**

**Wales, Lord Hufflepuff's Estate, 5th November 1060, 1:24pm**

Lord Hufflepuff blearily opened one eye followed by the other. He had fallen asleep again in his outside room, with Badger snoring on his feet.

"Don't fall asleep on me milord Gladus Hufflepuff," a silky voice demanded.

Lord Hufflepuff's eyes snapped open. "Saladin!" he exclaimed while struggling with his old bones to sit up. Badger glanced up at his human master ill contentedly and shuffled his bottom further on Hufflepuff's boots.

His companion held up his hand silent, bidding Hufflepuff to remain comfortable. Hufflepuff sighed wearily and Badger sighed noisily before drifting off again.

"I must say your request to see me had quite intrigued me behind your meaning, dear friend," Hufflepuff's companion said while shaking his head in good humour at his familiar. "Forgive my belated response but I was in Normandy with family business."

Lord Hufflepuff shook his head sleepily his groggy mind hazily trying to remember why he had called upon Saladin Slytherin, who was a very busy wizard.

"Mead, milord?" Hufflepuff finally asked glancing at his companion. The years had been kind to Lord Slytherin. His long black hair was still glossy and wavy there was only a hint of grey in his strand, not like his own head of hair. Crown of glory, his daughter Helga had told him. Slytherin still sported a neatly trimmed goatee that seemed favour in his clan. Bright sea green eyes were alight with his intelligence and wit. His skin was smooth and still albaster white, except for a few wrinkles around his bright shining eyes. Slytherin's hands, which had never known physical labour, were still elegant and bejewelled.

Saladin however gazed back down at the sleeping badger. "No thankyou, friend, your young steward already saw to my needs."

"Yes, yes, good lad that one," Hufflepuff agreed, moving his feet slowly in order to become more comfortable.

"He's getting on in years," Saladin murmured taking in the fat badger which only turned on his back and continued snoring loudly. "Really you should stop feeding him sweet meats."

Hufflepuff smiled sadly. "Trying to make his last years comfortable and happy."

Slytherin smirked.

Suddenly remembering why he had written to Saladin Slytherin in the first place Hufflepuff leaned forward. "I had a visit from Erebus Prior and learned some very disturbing facts."

"Peace, my friend," Saladin said holding up his hand for quiet. "I know he's your friend but I am quite aware he is… unbalanced. No need to fret Hufflepuff."

"Aye. Unbalanced. And his latest inventions prove his insanity."

Saladin Slytherin's face visibly frowned, which was a very intimidating gesture for anyone on the receiving end. "Tell me more," Saladin said sternly. "Make sure you don't skip any details."

Hufflepuff called for Stuart who was by his side in an instant. "Tell Lord Slytherin of Erebus' visit and all the detail that was discussed." Hufflpuff glanced apologetically at his friend. "I'm sorry but I'm an old man and my memory is failing me."

Slytherin nodded his understand and glanced at the young steward who was eying him in trepidation. When he arrived that afternoon he did not tell the young man who he was exactly but had otherwise convinced the steward to sit with his master until he woke. He had no doubt the steward had indeed heard his name before.

As Stuart halting started his retell of Erebus Prior's visit, Saladin became more and more enraged. He was furious by the time Stuart admitted that Erebus had a vial containing the blood of his own son and Godric Gryffindor and hence their magical cores.

"This is an outrage!" Saladin cried standing up abruptly so that he upset his goblet of mead which had stayed forgotten.

"I'm sorry!" Stuart blurted and Saladin gave the servant a strange look and shook his head.

"How could have Salazar been so lazy and let his guard down and Godric too!"

"Do you know what this could mean?" Hufflepuff ventured.

Saladin nodded sadly. "Although some would find crossing the Gryffindor and Slytherin blood lines beneficial this could hang over our clans' heads… This substances must be destroyed and all like it! Notes and all!"

"Indeed I was hoping you would help me make Erebus see reason."

"Of course," Saladin muttered, tracing a thin line of his lips with his finger looking pensive in thought. "Tomorrow I shall confront him with Salazar and Godric and demand the vial be destroyed and all that was used to create such a thing."

'

'

'

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, The Round Room, 6th November 1060, 9:01**

Godric Gryffindor unclasped his long rich red robe with gold trimmings and dumped it haphazardly over the back of one of the chairs in the Round Room. The Round Room had been Salazar's idea. A meeting place where he and his co-founders could meet on equal grounds to discuss the running of the school. Or in Slytherin's words have civilised words away from prying ears of the students.

It was early to have a meeting but he had received a missive from Saladin Slytherin, Salazar's father requesting to speak with him as a matter of dire urgency.

Godric resumed pacing the situation was far from orthodox. Firstly even though it is unwise to doubt the elder Slytherin Lord, Saladin Slytherin was usually more polite and vague in his requests. Secondly the thought of Saladin Slytherin describing anything as dire or urgent was a very rare occurrence.

Something was wrong, Godric could feel it. Although Saladin now preferred to live in a secluded wing of Hogwarts Castle to be with the dwindling remains of his family, he was nearly always present during meal times. Even though Saladin was busy running the various Slytherin estates, he had taken a real interest in his son's snakes. Meal times were the best time for the old man to watch over his son and snakes, he had become the patriarch of the Slytherins. But Saladin had missed breakfast, lunch and dinner. An odd occurance. Some of his Gryffindors even had the courage or audacity to ask him if Saladin had passed away. Godric was sure that the old man was responsible for some extra help with a few well chosen students.

The door creaked open and Godric whipped expecting to see Saladin Slytherin standing in the doorway. Instead he was graced with Salazar's presence.

The snake founder greeted Godric with a slight nod and questioning glance. "Is your father well?" Godric asked with a sense of foreboding.

"I have not seen him," Salazar sighed taking a seat and watched in amusement as Godric started to pace again. "Stop pacing and calm down."

Godric sighed and obeyed his friend's suggestion without registering what his body was doing. "Something is going on and I don't like it one bit."

"Calm Godric," Salazar commanded silkily. "Father said he had some family business this morning to clear up I'm sure it isn't something too… criminal."

"If it is family business then what am I doing here?" Godric asked shaking his head.

"What can I say?" Salazar said opening up the palms of his hands. "Father sees you as an honourary Slytherin. Can't see what he sees in you though."

Godric snorted, shifted nervously and clasped his hands in front of himself. Slytherin remained silent and closed his eyes. Neither founder needed to talk in each other's presence to feel comfortable.

The peace was soon shattered however when the door slammed open revealing an enraged Saladin Slytherin dragging a black clad wizard in by his ear. Godric and Salazar exchanged amused looks. They had seen Saladin use the ear pinch with many a Slytherin and were quite comfortable with this practice.

"Good Morn, Father," Salazar greeted loftily pointedly ignoring the 'owws' of the unfortunate prisoner.

"Is it?" Saladin answered coldly, hurling his prisoner inside the room and closing the door. The elder Slytherin ignored the questioning glances and waved his wand setting up several privacy spells.

The prisoner glared up at Saladin heatedly but the powerful wizard ignored him. "This man had committed a heinous crime against the both of you," Saladin announced pointing his long finger at the stranger. Only his white lips, shaking finger and pulsing vein in his neck betrayed how angry he was feeling.

"What crime would that be, milord?" Godric asked, being the first to get over the initial shock.

"Father isn't that Erebus Prior?" Salazar asked a split second later, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What wrong could he possibly have done against us?"

"My son, you have let your guard down and so have you Godric Gryffindor of the wild moorlands," Saladin said blandly. "He has stolen blood from each of you, fused your magical signatures together to create a potion that is what he proudly calls 'life'."

Godric paled. "It must be destroyed!"

Erebus seemed to notice Godric and Salazar for the first time. He jumped to his knees to come before the lion founder grasping the wizard's cloak in clenched fists. "Milord, milord you don't understand what this means. Can you not imagine a son of yourself and Lord Salazar. He would grow strong and noble so like yourself but he would also be clever, intelligent and sly like his second father. Just imagine what power he could weld, just imagine such a boy."

"When he says it like that I frankly think of one lost little boy," Salazar said. "We are too different from each other to have our magical cores in one being."

"Just as well it's still in potion form," Saladin stated, his green eyes sparkling maliciously.

Erebus suddenly looked miserably to the floor.

"You shall destroy the vial," Saladin continued harshly. "And all the research that goes along with it."

Erebus looked pale and sick at the thought of destroying his work. "But my lord do you have any idea how many years, experimentation and materials have gone into my research?"

"You are dabbling into things that should not be dabbled in," Godric half roared. "You had no right to abuse us like this."

Saladin nodded slightly and turned towards Erebus once more. "In addition I will send one of my men to make sure that any other dangerous research and potions are destroyed."

Erebus' mouth hung wide open. "Please milord…"

"I don't want to hear any more of your pathetic inane excuses," Godric snarled standing and making his way to the door making sure that he indicated the conversation was over for him. "Excuse me but I have some young Gryffindors to teach…"

Erebus looked up into the face of Saladin and then Salazar. "Milords… it's been stolen."

Godric's hand froze on the door knob. Nothing good could come from that statement. He suddenly realise why he had felt a deep sense of foreboding.

"The vial was stolen last week from my stores."

Godric wretched the door open nearly ripping it off its hinges before taking two stairs at a time.

"Godric!"

Salazar was hot on his heels.

"Godric slow down."

Despite his internal struggles Godric stopped and waited.

"We will find this vial and we will destroy it," Salazar said. "It's only a matter of time before we find the thief."

Godric sighed and shook his head. "If this… this _child_… has been conceived then I cannot kill it." He stared his friend in his eyes. "I could not kill an innocent, furthermore I could not destroy my own offspring… no matter how it… existed. It's not the vial's fault."

"I know, nor could I hurt my own. Blood is important afterall," Salazar murmured. "But let us not worry about what tomorrow might bring."


	6. Seredipity

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Six. Serendipity**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Library, 6th November 1996, 01:07am**

If there was anything Harry could say about the twins' research for their project – it was thorough. Certainly he had his work cut out for him. And because he didn't want to get Ron and Hermione involved it was as if his work load had tripled. Well doubled, Ron was never much help with research.

This was the third consecutive night that he had stolen away to the library under the cover of his invisibility cloak, while the school was sleeping. It was an unfortunate side effect of the fact most of the books were in the restricted section and there was no way that McGonagall would give him a pass to read these books. Hell would freeze over first.

No, more than likely she would be concerned about him and pack him off to Dumbledore to share English tea and lemon drops. No thank you; his research was too important to be nipped in the bud.

Harry yawned and glanced around he darkened room distorted from his view under his father's wonderful rule breaking cloak. There was no one to see him so he took it off and turned back to the book, _Peculiar Potions for Pompous Persons by Olive Pickled_, and yawned loudly.

He had just finished reading about the Pinocchio Syndrome which was invented by a nasty looking witch from Italy in 1354. This potion would make the unfortunate guinea pig's nose grow whenever they told a lie. The only known victim was a puppeteer called Papa Geppetto, who was determined that his favourite puppet was a real boy. The poor man died a few months later from a broken nose. No doubt this story was the basis of the Walt Disney movie.

Okay, so the Pinocchio Syndrome did not have much to do with Harry's unfortunate and confusing situation. But it was an interesting read and he was rather bored from reading thousand upon thousands of bland everyday potions.

Harry flickered over the page. "Dark Lords' Delight: Toffee for Your Everyday Evil Wizard," he read aloud and turned the page over. "Great just what we need Voldemort on a sugar high."

"Indeed."

Harry suddenly lost his stomach to his little toe. He knew that silky annoyed voice anywhere. He was sure to be minced potions ingredients very soon. He turned very slowly careful to keep of his sheepish grin Hermione warned him about that appeared from no where when he was in trouble.

"Where are your little Gryffindor friends?"

Obsidian eyes bore into emerald but Harry was determined not to look away.

"Erm… in bed?"

"Are you telling me Mr. Potter or asking me?" the black shadow slipped further from the darkness and Harry could now see the customary sneer in place.

"Telling you, Professor Snape," Harry muttered trying with all his might to seem respectful.

"Any idea what the time is?" Snape demanded almost as if he didn't care. Harry knew better, Snape was enjoying this immensely.

"Eight?" Maybe if he feigned innocence he would only get a week's worth of detention and minimal points taken off Gryffindor House. "I was studying here and… I must of lost track on time…"

Snape didn't say a word and Harry instantly knew his weak, pathetic little ruse was not working at all. "Then why would you have need of that inane cloak?" Snape hissed barely opening his lips. This was it he was really in trouble now.

Harry didn't say anything. If he lied he would be caught out. Snape evidently knew he was there for a reason; it was not like he broke the rules for the sake of breaking rules, and wanted a reason to punish him further. Silence would be a confession by default but at least he could still hope Snape would not question him further.

"I'll see you in detention then tomorrow," Harry murmured, standing slowly and keeping eye contact with Snape while trying to hide the suspect books he had been reading.

Snape was not amused. "Sit!" he hissed. Harry sat at his command like a disobedient puppy.

Professor and student calmly and silently regarded each other. It was Snape that broke the silence first however.

"I tell you what I think Mr. Potter."

Harry remained silent, Snape was not asking permission to speak, he was merely baiting him to see if he could get a reaction out of the younger wizard.

"Out in the library, alone, past midnight… spells trouble Mr. Potter."

Harry bit his lip fighting the urge to defend himself. He was out gunned and out matched.

"The book you are hiding from me you inane boy." Snape held his potion stained hands under Harry's nose. Harry jerked back and glanced into his teacher's face which for once was not sporting a sneer. Oh no, he was looking incredibly stern and much more deadly than usual. When Harry didn't immediately react to his command Snape wiggled his fingers impatiently.

Harry sighed heavily. The game was up. Snape had effectively sniffed him out when his friends had barely noticed his absence or his preoccupation in class. He slowly handed the book over to Snape, while kicking another more suspect tome from earlier in the evening further under the table.

"Peculiar Potions for Pompous Persons by Olive Pickled," Snape silkily read tracing his fingers over the cover. Harry determinedly didn't look at his professor he couldn't. The title sounded even more ridiculous when Snape of all people read it.

"If you are looking to impress me Mr. Potter…" Snape started.

"I wasn't dreaming of it Sir," Harry snarled back.

Snape visible started in surprise at the hard stare Harry was giving him. He mentally shook himself, remembering what McGonagall had said at the last staff meetings about Harry's changing attitude. Snape drew himself to his full height. He would not be intimidated by a midget student and a Gryffindor at that.

"… then this book will not do," Snape concluded harshly. "Now you can either tell me what you are doing here after midnight, reading dubious potions material that is more historical in nature or I can make the next few minutes uncomfortable."

"I am already uncomfortable, sir," Harry muttered. "Could you possibly stop breathing down my neck?"

Snape looked like he was going to clobber Harry right there and then. He merely breathed in more deeply through his crocked nose and said sharply, "Come."

Harry watched Snape's retreating form and decided against running, if he was lucky (which was not likely) McGonagall would not hear about this. So he stood and jogged to keep up with the long purposeful strides of the potions professor.

Predictably Snape lead Harry down to the dungeons and into his awful dank office. Harry had hoped not to ever see the inside of Snape's office again after the delightful episode of last year.

"Sit."

Harry sat.

"Firewhiskey?"

"Erm…" Snape handing out Firewhiskey to students? Had Christmas come early? Well Harry wasn't stupid enough to say yes, but he wasn't saying no if the offer remained standing.

"I was not serious you asinine child!"

Harry shrugged the insult off. He was used to that. At least he knew where he stood with Snape.

Talking of Snape the man was glaring at him with angry black eyes.

"I take it your adventure has something to do with the Weasleys."

Harry glanced up at Snape blankly. What did Snape know? He had the funny suspicion Snape knew more than what he was letting on. Oh yeah. That was right one of the twins had mentioned that if he wanted any information ask Snape. Well he was the golden opportunity. The problem? There was no way he was going to ask Snape for help. Hell could freeze over.

"The Weasley twins wrote me a letter." Snape's thin lips twitched at Harry's surprise. "Call it a business arrangement. I help the twins with any potions questions and I make a lucrative profit that is tax free."

Harry held onto the rim of the seat he was sitting on until his knuckles turned ghostly white. The twins couldn't have sold him out to Snape. They wouldn't do that. Would they?

As if sensing Harry's doubts on the Weasleys' characters Snape continued in that low annoying silky voice that was almost singing I-know-so-much-more-than-you, "The Weasley's did never mention the name of their test subject. But I received a letter a few nights ago about a polyjuice that did not work on some one. Of course I requested the reference list for their research and you would not believe it Mr Potter. Olive Pickled's book was on the list."

Harry stared blankly at Snape hoping against hope that he looked somewhat innocent.

"The book you were reading Mr. Potter," Snape jeered brandishing the book. "How very interesting the answer to your problem is in this book."

Harry's eyes lit up.

"Obviously your two Gryffindor brain cells did not pick it up because it is the first potion mentioned." Snape slapped the book on the desk just in front of where Harry was sitting.

Harry paled, his memory had not much improved but the first potions were very dubious. In fact most of them had been created by Erebus Prior but never made because of the nature of their results.

"I trust you can read Mr. Potter, first Potion out aloud."

Harry picked the book up with shaky hand and turned to the first potion which was simply life.

"_Erebus Prior, eccentric potions master and inventor whose sanity was often called in question lived approximately nine hundred years ago to the date of the publishing of this edition. Mr Prior's work was controversial even in his day. Many were horrified by some of his research. According to historians very little of Erbus' potions were never concocted as a result. _

_The most controversial of these potions was what Erebus Prior called 'life'. His claim that he created life energy from phoenix tears and blood from two fathers and other undisclosed materials was quickly crushed._

_The said fathers found Erebus out and forced him to 'destroy'. The fabled fathers were none other than Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin both legendary wizards of their era and founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For more on Erebus Prior including lust potions, abortions and sterility serum turn to page 231."_

Harry was thoroughly confused. "What does this have to do with anything sir?" Harry had a gut feeling he wasn't going to like it. "The potion was never created."

"Obviously the book is wrong. I'm looking at the creation," Snape answered. Something glittered behind his obsidian eyes.

Harry stared at Snape in shock.

"But… that is not possible… I…can't…"

"Your mother idiotically swallowed a weapon the Dark Lord coveted. The side effect of said potion was your conception. Amazing how the potion kept for a thousand years or so."

Was Snape looking wistful?

Harry shook himself mentality and snapped the book shut heavily. Somewhere inside he knew he should be screaming himself hoarse, demanding an explanation or denying everything. But he was just numb…

"But I look like my dad…"

Snape sneered revealing all his crooked yellow teeth. "James Potter could not handle the fact you weren't his… the reason polyjuice did not reveal your form was because this…" Snape gestured at Harry with one long finger. "… is a glamour charm. But even James' charms cannot take away the potion inside of you it cannot take your identity."

Harry shook his head his lips quivered open as if to say something. It wasn't every day you found out that two of the founders were your parents. Two of the male founders!

"I never agreed to covering your looks Mr. Potter or should I say Slytherin…" Something that could have been distantly related to sympathy flashed in Snape's eyes.

"I can't be…"

"Why not? You're a Parselmouth?"

"But Dumbledore said…"

"Psch! What would that Gryffindorish muggle loving old man know about Slytherin?"

Harry glanced up at Snape and shook his head. This could not be real… this could not be real… this could not be real… If he thought this mantra over enough maybe he would find himself warm in the Gryffindor dorms and it would only be a dream… this could not be real…

"Parselmouth is not a gift that can be acquired, Mr. Potter. It is inevitably inherited from the father or grandfather. Salazar Slytherin made sure of that."

Harry folded his hands in his lap. It was only with Snape's movement to a book shelf that he stirred.

"Here." Snape was holding out a black bound book towards him. Harry took it, it was surprisingly heavy. "Your mother's diary when she was pregnant with you and a little after. She left in my keeping until I believed you were ready… James of course was against telling you."

Harry was not sure what to say. Thank you sounded so wrong. And yet he finally had something of his mothers however much it was hurting him inside.

Harry stood stiffly tucking the book underneath his arm. "Good evening Professor," he murmured before dashing out the door to Snape's call of "Fifty points from Gryffindor!"

'

'

'

Hermione and Ron were waiting for Harry in the common room. He glanced at them guiltily and ran his hand through his messy hair.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione took control of the situation. "Ron woke up to find you gone."

"Yeah I went to the library," Harry muttered throwing himself on the couch.

"Er… mate have you been… er… you know… crying?" Ron freckled face seemed to be incredulous.

Harry blushed and stared at Ron slippered feet, he touched his hand to his face and found that yes he had been. Great he must have had a good sob session as he ran from Snape's office to the safety of the Gryffindor common room. He sniffed and wiped his sleeve across his face. "I guess so," he answered.

Ron was gazing at him as if expecting him to sure all the gory details. "Taking private lessons on how to kiss from Cho Chang?"

Harry smiled weakly at his best friend's feeble attempt to defuse the sticky situation. His weak smile became a grin however when Hermione stamped on Ron's toe none to gently. "Prat!" she cried.

"Yeah, you prat," Harry teased wiping his face on his sleeve again and sniffling.

"Anything to make you feel better mate," Ron muttered massaging his bruised toe and glaring in Hermione direction, while she tried to remained innocent looking.

Harry could stand it any longer. "I think I am a potion tube baby!"

Two sets of eyes snapped to his face. "What?" Ron cried. "There's no such thing."

"Do you mean IVF Harry? Was your dad infertile?"

"Huh? Hermione what are you going on about. You can't have a baby by potion, it's ridiculous!" Ron cried.

"It's called test tube baby Harry," Hermione said gently. "There's nothing to be ashamed about."

Harry resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes.


	7. Colliding Headlong Into Trouble

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Seven. Colliding Head Long Into Trouble**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Gryffindor Boy's Bathroom, 10th November 1996: 07:01am**

Harry stood stoically by the mirror in the boy's bathroom, refusing to look away from his deep set emerald orbs. He stared himself down ignoring the not so subtle signs of exhaustion. He had been feeling a mess since Snape had solved his riddle for him. Well to be completely truthful it was in the last few days that reality suddenly hit him. Before that it had been too far removed from his understanding that his situation seemed surreal. Now however he had submitted to the inevitable.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been right about him in some degrees. He was a freak of science, conceived and born unlike any other wizard or witch. He was a monster and worse yet he was viewed as a weapon. And that was likely the reason Voldemort hunted him so passionately. He vaguely wondered what Dumbledore would think of him if only he new his little secret… Indeed did Albus Dumbledore know of his dubious parentage and neglect to tell him? Snape after all had known all along and had his mother's diary. Dumbledore surely would have had suspicions at the very least and the old man had failed to tell him once again.

Harry slapped the cool surface of the mirror uselessly in frustration and bit his lip so that he would not scream in anger. The other Gryffindor boys had noticed that Harry had been 'off' and were teasing him about turning in a moody Slytherin. _'If only they knew,' _Harry thought with a groan before turning back into the dormitory.

Harry stopped by his bed glaring at the innocent looking cover of his mother's diary. How could she have been so stupid as to drink the potion? That he could never comprehend. He had also been told his mother had been a bright witch… he was starting to have his doubts.

Still glaring at the diary like it had committed a terrible treason he scooped it up and marched towards the Gryffindor Common Room. It was still early no one would take much notice and perhaps he could get started on reading his mother's secrets.

Immediately Harry found a comfortable chair and sat back and opened the diary. He flicked the first page his stomach turning to putty just thinking about how much further his life could possibly go down the drain…

'_I'm pregnant or so Severus Snape tells me. I think he was trying to break the news gently but as to be expected he failed brilliantly. James is still fuming in the bathroom…'_

Harry snorted well that was something he had in common with his 'adopted' father.

'_It's not mine. Not James'. No this seed. This parasite that is growing inside of me is the progeny of two long dead wizards. This is the fact which has flailed me to the core.' _

Harry brushed his hand across his eyes in an attempt to rid himself of the burning tears that refused to fall from his eyes. He bit down on his lip to stop himself from making a sound. Despite his efforts a lonely sob escaped his throat… He felt cold inside with the realisation not even Lily Evans had wanted a monster like himself.

'_One mistake and now I'm knocked up, my life turning to ashes around me. I cannot begin to express my regret. Everything is ruined. My wedding, my relationship with James and even the way my parents look at me is different. The parasite should be adopted out when born… I cannot be its care taker…'_

That was as far as Harry got before his vision was completely blurred by tears. He slapped the book shut and pulled off his glasses which had fogged up due to his tears. He felt outrage and anger but most of all he was feeling very sick in the stomach.

Clutching his hands to his belly he felt a strange pulling at his navel. He closed his eyes and gave a short inarticulate cry of surprise as a tingling pain erupted over his body…

'

'

'

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Entrance Hall, 15th November 1060: 07:45am**

Godric Gryffindor the hero of the wild moors, glanced over at his silent companion. They had little luck in finding out how the potion vial with their stolen blood had been 'misplaced'. Even with Lord Saladin Slytherin's intimidating presence was unable to make anyone speak.

The aide of one Rowena Ravenclaw had been sought. The brilliant witch and co-founder of the prestigious school had not been too much help. This Salazar found ironic. The only option Rowena had given the male founders was to use a complex summoning spell, which Godric was against.

This summoning spell had not been used since the time of Merlin… Who knew how many laws they would be breaking if they were found out? In Salazar's opinion the likelihood of breaking any laws was improbable. They had to be found to be in trouble. Godric was not so sure.

Without speaking to one another they stood facing each other and clasped hands before starting to murmur a spell in the ancient tongue.

'

'

'

SMACK!

Harry found himself inevitably kissing cold grey stones with his nose, which by the way he was sure he had broken. Groaning he rolled himself over and pulled himself to his feet. He touched his nose gingerly with the tips of his fingers just to make sure it was still there. It was.

"Halt there!"

Harry froze and blinked furiously. One part of his mind comprehended that there were two strangely dressed wizards racing towards him with their wands out ready to attack. The second part of Harry's mind was blank: he knew he should take the opportunity to run in the opposite direction but he just could not move.

Harry blinked again to find that he had been thoroughly trapped by the strangers. They had flanked him effectively cutting off any escape route. Their wands were pressing at the skin of his neck which was surprisingly tender.

Harry blinked again and again. "Where am I?" he asked gazing from one wizard to the other.

His question was ignored so he repeated it. "Where am I and who the hell are you?"

"I think the questions that are imprudent whelp, is who are you, who are you spying for and how did you apparate on the hallowed grounds of Hogwarts?"

Harry blinked slowly and sneered at the tall regal man in green robes. "Everyone knows you can't apparate into Hogwarts," he drawled at once wondering why he felt so defensive. A moment later he was none too gently reminded of the wands pressed at his throat.

Something caught Harry's eye to take his mind of his immediate danger. His mother's diary had followed him and was precariously floating above one of his captor's head. The said captor was too busy analysing him to notice Harry's attention was not on him.

"Er…" Harry said holding up his hand to half warn his captor of the heavy tome that was about to knock him unconscious.

"Enough!"

The diary came down with at horrible thwack. The green wizard's eyes rolled in the back of his head comically before he crumbled to the ground. Harry's eyes darted to the other captor who was staring at his fallen comrade to the book in shock.

"Nevermind…" Harry continued weakly before turning around and darting away. He had to get away from his whacked up version of Hogwarts.

"Come back here!" an angry voice yelled after him.

Harry continued to flee laughing slightly at the thrill of the case. Despite the racing of his beating heart Harry had enjoyed taking advantage of his captors. He felt so energised. So alive…

Harry's racing footsteps took him to a place that did remind him of Hogwart's Entrance Hall. He didn't dwell on the fact that it seemed different he concentrated on fleeing for his young life. He was of the belief he was too young to die.

Two ladies who were walking together gossiping glanced up in concern as they saw Harry darting towards them. "Excuse me ladies!" Harry cried darting right underneath their arms which were laden with baskets.

"STOP HIM!" came one of his captor's yells.

"Oh dear," one lady sighed. "We let him get away…"

Harry glanced over his shoulder to see the captor with crimson and gold robes slid to a stop beside the women and pulling out his wand.

"This is not good…"

The wizard fired a hex at Harry, narrowly missing his head.

"Definitely not good," Harry amended between clenched teeth.

What Harry failed to see was the other wizard clad in green soon joined his friends and stop the red clothed wizard from firing any more potentially hazardous spells. Hence allowing Harry to escape… temporarily…

Harry ran all the way to the small town of Hogsmeade with the full intention of writing a note for help and owling someone to rescue him. There was nothing worse than being in a terrible situation and being alone in said situation.

Harry didn't stop to admire the fine little wooden signs hanging up by chains outside the doors of the shops or to ponder how sparse Hogsmeade was. It was much smaller than what Harry remembered but he dared not tarry in case someone else had it in for him for some imagined crime.

The owlary was not difficult for Harry to find. It was a small decaying tower of cold grey stone with a wooden sign of an owl by the entrance. He entered still puffing and brushing himself off.

"Yes 'ir?"

Harry smiled wryly at the clerk hunched over a woodened table that served him as a desk.

"I like some parchment to write a note and an owl to take it to… er London."

For a long moment the clerk stared at Harry with large toad like eyes. Finally he blinked once and scratched the bald patch on his head. "Me name's Fredrick Ball and yer nae from around these parts," the clerk, Fredrick said looking at Harry's clothes with distaste. "What be yer name laddie."

Harry's mind raced he needed a name.

"I take it yer have a name to go by, boy."

"Er… yes," Harry murmured quickly. "And it's a good one too!" Harry wished he could have slapped his forehead after such a stupid comment. Fredrick's eyes never left Harry's blushing face he was still waiting for a name.

"Albert Bell..." Harry spurted digging into his pockets hoping to find some wizard currency. He pulled out two knuts and a galleon. "Will this do? Can I write my note now?"

Harry dropped the coins on the wooden table and for a moment the clerk's eyes were on the coins. Something flashed through the clerk's expression and Harry was not sure what it was.

"Right this way, boy."

Harry followed Fredrick through the small tower to a room. Fredrick pushed Harry through an open door way and up some stairs. "Write yer note 'ere. I'll go get yer me favourite owl. He'll get yer note to London very swift he will."

"Thanks," Harry said weakly taking in the musty state of the room. "I'll wait for your return then."

Fredrick nodded to himself as if he was deeply pleased and left the room swiftly.

Sighing heavily Harry composed a quick note pleading someone to rescue in from the demented Hogwarts. He finished his letter quickly and therefore decided to pace the room in agitation.

Harry had realised he was hungry and had spent all his money on delivering this note for help. He had strange people up at Hogwarts looking for him and Hogsmeade didn't look nearly as inviting as it had last time he had been there. Worse of all he didn't know what to do, or where to go.

Harry's pacing was soon disturbed by Fredrick and another hooded man entering the chamber. Something inside of Harry froze as the hooded stranger growled at him.

"What's the meaning of this?" Harry demanded in his very best intimating voice, which were lost on both the men standing at the doorway.

"Excellent, Fredrick," the hooded man growled throatily. Harry could see a horrid sneer forming on the hidden face but nothing more. "It must be him."

The hooded man stepped further into the chamber. Panicking Harry dived underneath his legs and sprinted down the hall. His legs moving quickly and machinelike but he was destined only to make the front door.

The hooded man was swift in response. With a roar of frustration and anger he leapt into the air and grappled Harry to the ground. Claw like hands held Harry's thrashing head still and Harry had to bite down a scream of fright as his eyes were locked to inhuman yellow eyes of his assailant.

"Silas Slytherin, such a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Harry's attacker gloated while sitting on top of Harry's chest to immobilise him.

Harry thrashed under the strange human like man wildly. "I'm not Silas Slytherin!" he protested.

"Ah…" the man sighed knowingly running a sharp jagged fingernail down Harry's cheeks. "But you have your grand sire's eyes."

"And such long elegant fingers and beautiful raven hair…" Dirty fingers raked through Harry's hair. For a moment Harry thought his hair was longer than what he was accustomed to but he banished that thought. He had something else to worry about that was more important than his hair.

"Please…" Harry begged struggling under his jailer's weight. "Please let me go."

Harry's captor had not such plan as to let him go. Eyes widening in horror Harry watched as he pulled out his wand and pressed it to his temple.

"Crucio!"

Harry bit down on his lips but the cruel white tendrils of pain were malicious with the wand touching his forehead. He was only able to hold in his screams for mere seconds before he was writhing in agony and screaming his throat raw.

The curse was lifted after what seemed like a millennia. "Confess – you are Silas Slytherin."

Harry lay whimpering on the floor. "Nooo I'm not," he protested weakly.

"Very well have it your way. CRUCIO!"

The pain flared across Harry's body. So much pain that he could barely twitch on the ground. His insides hurt terribly. His throat was blocked. He thought he was going to be physically sick over the pain.

And still the curse was held.


	8. Meeing Fate Part One

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Eight. Meeting Fate – Part One**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Grounds, 15th November 1060: 07:55 am**

Lord Saladin Slytherin was slowly making his way back to the Hogwarts Castle, from visiting old Lord Hufflepuff when he ran into both Godric and Salazar. Both whom were sporting crimson cheeks and a disgruntled temper.

"I take it the potion summoning didn't work?"

Godric snorted.

"No but we have an intruder," Salazar muttered. "Appeared out of no where in the Entrance Hall." Salazar snapped his fingers to illustrate his point.

"You can't apparate into Hogwarts' Grounds!" Saladin snapped.

"I _know_," Godric sighed in frustration. "But he did…"

Saladin Slytherin stared long and hard at Salazar than at Godric as if to confirm the tale. He pursed his lips tightly together and shook his head. "That's not possible," he muttered to himself, before turning back to the younger wizards. "Split up, find him but do not hurt a hair on his head."

Godric looked a little disgruntled at the thought. "He could be a spy."

"Doubt it," Saladin muttered stroking his goatee. "Something odd is happening here."

Saladin didn't wait for Godric or Salazar to follow his commands. He knew despite their legendary fame the pair would do just about anything he asked. It was one of the perks of being the Clan Laird.

Saladin strode purposefully towards Hogsmeade. It was the only place of civilisation in ten square miles and the only likely spot to find this run away. Saladin was no fool. Already he had his suspicions of exactly who this strange intruder might be.

It was unusual for a summoning spell to go wrong. Even more unusual that both Godric and Salazar's summoning had seemed to go awry. But as Laird Slytherin he knew appearances weren't always what they seemed. Something Salazar seemed to temporarily forget.

In a matter of minutes Saladin reached the edge of Hogsmeade he sniffed the air around him in disdain. He could almost smell treachery which lay thick in the air. He was no fool. His clan was powerful; power caused jealously and jealously bore betrayal. He had known betrayal at a very young age and knew it would plague himself and his descendants.

Saladin drew his cloak about his shoulders and threw his head up confidently. Confidence was the key. Without confidence he would not get for what he came for.

A scream rent the air. Saladin's head shot up as he froze to listen. He was almost giddy with the pain and confusion. The Cruciatus curse he realised with a jolt. The emotion behind the screams of agony was unmistakable. A heartbeat later it stopped and everything was still.

It never ceased to surprise him how calm Hogsmeade remained after such a horrible sound. It was like the wizarding village ignored everything that happened around them like blind mice. It also meant that _he_ was back again.

Saladin swore, drew his wand and started running as the screams started again. It was coming from the owlery.

Saladin thrust open the wooden door to the owlery with a well aimed hex. The door flew from the hinge. A moment later there was a shout of surprise and the undeniable pop of someone apparating.

Saladin stalked through the door way, knowing that the owl master, Fredrick Ball would not have the guts to run away from him.

Sure enough Fredrick was waiting for him, cowering in the corner with large wide eyes.

But Saladin's attention was grabbed by a youngster lying curled up on the floor still writhing in agony despite the curse being lifted.

"You!" Saladin hissed through his teeth pointing his wand at the hapless Fredrick Ball. He kneeled beside the boy and pinned his struggling fists to the floor. "Find Salazar and Godric. Tell them I have found him and I will meet them back at the castle presently."

Fredrick mumbled something and wrung his hat in his fists before edging towards the door slowly his bulbous eyes never left Saladin.

"Hush," Saladin murmured turning towards the boy who was now half heartedly turning to curl himself up into a foetal position as if to protect his insides. It only served to tell Saladin that his clan's greatest enemy had indeed been here and was responsible for the boy's pain.

"Hush now, you're safe," Saladin commanded holding the boy's quivering face still. The boy's eyes opened revealing large confused green eyes; a green so much like his own eyes. It was with a jolt that Saladin realised that his suspicions about the intruder had been right.

Saladin realised who his enemies had thought the boy was and was sickened by the thought that this was meant for his own grandson. This boy before him choked weakly shaking him out of his daydream. An identity was needed quickly before the other wizarding clans realised what this boy was, both for Slytherin and Gryffindor clan and the child himself.

Saladin snapped his head up and to his relief Fredrick was still watching him. Fredrick was known to be a bit of a gossip – who better to give away some fake information. "Tell Salazar that young Tristian is safe, it will relieve his tension somewhat."

Fredrick's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Tristian?"

"Yes. Tristian Wolfe my great nephew and my new fostered charge from Wales," Saladin bit out impatiently.

"Oh." Fredrick had bought the story.

"Now go!" Saladin snapped imperiously. And Fredrick scampered away glad to have lived through an encounter with Saladin Slytherin.

Saladin didn't wait for Fredrick's footsteps to completely die away before he took off his cloak and draped it over the shivering boy before him. For the briefest moments their eyes locked.

"I'm not Tristian…" the boy muttered licking his dry lips, his eyes darted about wildly as if expecting to be cursed again.

Saladin smiled wanly. "I know."

The boy nodded and started to choke badly. When the boy pursed his lips so tightly they were going white with pressure, Saladin gently rolled the boy to his side. "Don't fight it let it out," Saladin commanded.

The boy looked slightly disgusted by the prospect.

"I don't want you to drown on your own bile, boy," Saladin said drawing away the long curtains of black hair.

The boy coughed again his mouth agape and this time it didn't look like the boy could stop. Deep rich blood and bile bubbled from his lips as his chest quivered. Saladin let the boy rest for a little while as he panted staring at his own sick in horror.

"No," Saladin said firmly as the boy lifted a shaking hand to his mouth touching the blood as if he could not believe it himself. "Rest and don't speak. There will be time for that later."

The boy nodded his head wearily and closed his eyes as if he wished he was dying. Saladin sighed as the boy continued to cough, his small chest heaving, and blood dripping from his chin.

"I'm going to take you up into my arms now," Saladin warned as he turned the youngster over and slipped his hands under his knees. "I'll move you as carefully as I can."

The boy nodded again to communicate that he understood and clasped his eyes shut more tightly.

'

'

'

Harry shuddered and snuggled closer to the stern man's chest. He had no doubt of where he was being taken but he felt immensely safe in the stranger's arms. He had been frightened of how the Cruciatus curse had affected him. It had felt his blood was boiling even now his insides were cramping painfully. But when he was choking and drowning on his own body fluids he had been so sure he was going to die.

"Not… Tris..tian," Harry murmured. It seemed somewhat important that this man needed to know he wasn't his young relative. Especially since he had been mistaken for a 'Silas' and had been tortured to get a confession.

"Hush. No talking," a rumbling voice replied.

"Not T…"

"Hush," the voice sternly reprimanded. "Now is not the time for talk."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but was cut short by an exasperated sigh. "I made the story up, boy."

Harry let his eyes flutter before sinking further into his subconscious.

"Father, what is this about Tristian Wolfe?" an accusing voice cut through Harry's throbbing brain. "We have no Welsh relatives."

"Your summoning spell seemed to have worked after all," was the dry response.

There was a pregnant pause.

"Do you mean to say…?"

"Yes Godric, your potion baby had grown up."

There was another long pause.

"That's my… that our…?"

"Our progeny no longer in liquid form, Godric."

"Now Salazar, this isn't any time to be arguing."

A cool hand touched Harry's burning cheeks and lightly ran down his jaw line. "_Feverish? _What happened?"

"Malic is back, damn monster got to the boy before I could get there. Obviously he thought he had Silas in his grubby paws."

There was yet another meaningful pause.

"Will he be okay?"

"Internal bleeding, I'll need Ulrich to get some potions into him pretty quickly. He's in a wee bit of pain at the moment."

Harry groaned in agreement before tumbling further in unconsciousness.

'

'

'

'_Too bright,'_ was Harry's first thought as he returned to consciousness. He turned onto his stomach and buried his faced into a fluffy duck down pillow. He didn't know why but he felt like he had just finished a long, aggressive game of Quidditch. In a huff he turned onto his side to see if he could find a more comfortable position.

When Harry's eyes flickered open to take in his surrounding the first thing he had noticed was he was not surrounded in the familiar Gryffindor red and gold. He stretched slowly and blinked but his surroundings remained in the different hues of greens and silvers.

At first Harry thought someone was playing a cruel trick and changed the colours of the Gryffindor dormitories. But then he remembered what had happened to him before he lost consciousness and recalled that he was lost in a demented world.

The bed sheets were unlike anything he had ever felt. At first he had thought they were silk but the material was so fine yet so strong he dismissed the idea.

Harry lifted his hands to his face realising he could see perfectly fine when he woke up and confirmed his glasses were missing.

Worried about the strange turn of events and wishing that he was anywhere but where he was, including a detention with Snape, Harry threw aside the covers to discover yet another surprise. He was wearing a long white shirt that reached to his knees!

Harry startled by all his strange discoveries padded across the room to where a mirror was attached to the wall, despite the cold chill on his bare feet. For a moment he stood there imaging his face in his minds eye. He was sure he was going crazy.

Eyes still firmly closed and slipped in front of the mirror. When he opened his eyes to peer into the cold depths of the mirror Harry as sure his heart had stopped.

Everything about him had changed. The first thing he noticed was his hair was indeed longer than when he had last looked. It hung to about his shoulder blades in a mass of black silky waves. His skin was now a healthy olive pigment. He was pleased that he even seemed a little bit taller than usual. But realised with some disgust he was still slim and willowy. His face had changed also, his cheekbones and chin was more pronounced and sharper. But it was his eyes that held him the longest.

From the moment Harry had entered Hogwarts everyone had mentioned how much like James he had been. But he had been secretly proud of his eyes. His mother's eyes as he had been told countless times by older witches and wizards. Now his emerald orbs had been replaced with light sea green.

Harry didn't recognise himself. He would have known it was himself he was looking at unless he spotted the tell-tale lightning bolt scar. With everything that had changed his scar remained the only constant.

In frustration Harry pressed his hand to the cool surface of the mirror and peered more closely at himself. "Who is this that is staring back at me?" Harry murmured to himself.

"Ah, young sir is awake."

Harry jumped and spun on his heal coming face to face with another unknown wizard. The older wizard smiled sadly and stepped forward. "I'm Ulrich, Lord Saladin Slytherin's manservant and healer."

Harry stared at the new comer somewhat in disbelief. The ginger haired man smiled genially and winked one of his large chocolate brown eyes. "I shall take you to his lordship, in whose care you are in, once you are attired properly."

Harry nodded glumly and stared about the room suddenly aware he was standing in the middle of the chamber dressed in only a long nightshirt. Harry hugged himself self consciously aware the manservant was watching him.

"Hose, a shirt and a jerkin are waiting on the chair," Ulrich told him nodding to a chair on which indeed was some freshly laid out clothes. "I'll bring you some under robes and a robe."

Harry flushed scarlet realising how stupid he looking standing freezing to death in the middle of the room, while clothes had already been set out for him.

"Thanks," Harry mumbled stiffly walking over to the clothes and wrenching the hose, which were pants, up underneath his nightshirt. He noted somewhat cynically there were no boxer shorts or underwear in sight.

The pants didn't have any buttons either. Much to his chagrin Harry turned away from Ulrich who was rummaging through the cupboard pulling out several expensive robes, so that he could fumble with the cord to keep his pants up. There was no way he was going to ask for help!

To disguise his already reddening cheeks Harry scrambled out of the night shirt before quickly throwing the crisp white shirt over his head. Again there was no buttons the front had to be tied up like a shoelace.

"Forget the jerkin," Ulrich said by Harry's shoulder.

Harry jumped he had forgotten Ulrich was in the same room as him. Ulrich however, ignored Harry's fright and proceeded to tuck Harry's shirt in – much to Harry's horror.

Harry had no time to hide his embarrassment as Ulrich then threw over his shoulders deep black velvet robe which Harry quickly buttoned for himself before Ulrich could make himself useful. Ulrich smooth the long sleeves of the robe which nearly covered the whole of Harry's hand.

"I thought the overrobe of emerald green and gold, sir," Ulrich said. Harry blinked and stared into the bearded wizard's face, the manservant was obviously waiting for his approval.

Harry turned a little bit more to see exactly what an over robe looked like. Ulrich was holding up a robe in a deep emerald green that had shorter sleeves that flared open. Around the edge was gold Celtic knots. The clasps were simple gold toggles, which would finish about the waist so that the bottom of the robe would flare out to reveal the black underrobe.

"It's fine," Harry murmured suddenly feeling very numb inside. Ulrich nodded and assisted Harry into the robe.

"Take a seat and I'll fix your hair for you."

Harry never thought he would hear those words spoken to him. Not since the hairdresser he visited when he was seven. But he was at a loss and decided arguing would not help him one bit. So he listlessly as Ulrich pulled out a comb and a gold clasp.

"Hold this, sir," Ulrich said handing Harry the clasp. Harry took the gold ornament and stared down into it. He had been expecting something plain but he realised with jolt the ornament was in the shape of three intertwining snakes. Harry twirled it in his hands thoughtfully.

Ulrich on the other hand had pulled back his fringe and took the clasp. "It's the Slytherin family symbol," the servant explained to Harry gently. "It will legitimatise your claim."

"My claim?"

"To Slytherin blood," Ulrich replied patiently.

Harry blinked, everything seemed so confusing and frightening.

Seeing Harry's distress and confusion, Ulrich rose and offered Harry's his hand. "I'll take you to his lordship."


	9. Meeting Fate Part Two

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Nine. Meeting Fate – Part Two**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Saladin Slytherin's Appartments, 18th November 1060: 09:41 am**

Lord Saladin Slytherin was not alone when Ulrich rapt on his apartment door. Harry had felt a pang of panic when Ulrich reach over his shoulder to knock felt ill at ease when the door opened by itself on command to reveal two older gentlemen sitting in throne like chairs by a warm fire.

"Ah, here he is at last." Harry thought he recognised the first gentleman who had spoken. He waited in trepidation as this man regally stood and swept across the room. Harry barely had time to swallow his panic when his upper arm was grasped lightly and he was propelled into the room.

"See my Lord Hufflepuff, no severe damage done by the potion. He is as healthy as any other offspring sired the natural way."

Harry blushed crimson and ducked his head and took the moments pause to take in the man that was still holding his upper arm who he assumed was Saladin Slytherin. His face was strong set, but finely chiselled likewise his hands were very elegant and bejewelled. He also realised this man was tall and willow but was not someone to take lightly.

"Thank you Ulrich, I can look after the lad from here."

Harry twisted his head around and watched with a sinking feeling Ulrich departing back.

"He looks a tad peaky, Saladin," the other gentleman commented. Harry's head shot up annoyed that he was being talked about as if he was not present. The old gent smiled wanly at him and that was when Harry noticed that he was cuddling a badger of all creatures.

"He was attacked by Malic and I have had him dosed up on Dreamless Sleep," Saladin said as he took Harry by the shoulders and steered him towards his seat and then forced him to sit. Harry sat and glanced up. "The poor lad suffered quite a bit of internal bleeding."

"Sodding monster," Lord Hufflepuff muttered.

Harry couldn't help but grin slightly at Lord Hufflepuff's muttering but he wasn't brave enough to answer.

"Ah there's a bit o' Godric in his nose and expression," Lord Hufflepuff said wistfully. "Awful lot of Slytherin in him but I can see Godric in the glint of his eyes."

Saladin Slytherin nodded his head and squeezed Harry's shoulders firmly. Not so that they hurt but so he knew he was standing beside him and watching. "I understand you know of what we speak, Tristian?"

Harry's head shot up at still being addressed as 'Tristian'. And far from being a stupid dull boy, Harry indeed was putting the pieces of the puzzle and had figured out what was going on around him. He just wasn't going to admit it.

Harry paused before he answered licking his dry cracked lips. "I'm _not_ Tristian, I'm Harry."

Saladin's hand left Harry's shoulder and Harry heard the older wizard sigh as Lord Hufflepuff chuckled.

"Stubborn as Godric too, he'll drive Salazar mad."

At the mention of the snake founder Harry's stomach did a somersault. He was sure his face had become pale.

"Forgive me dear boy for not explaining. You are now Tristian Wolfe, my grand nephew if anyone asks you of our relationship." Saladin didn't leave any room for argument. He was worse than old Dumbledore.

Because he was too afraid to argue Harry scowled openly and crossed his arms. He didn't like where any of this was heading.

"Are you aware of your patronage, boy?" Saladin asked almost gently but Harry wasn't fooled it was a demand and a test. Although what Saladin was testing for was beyond Harry.

Harry dipped his head and blushed. "Yes," he answered curtly he wasn't going to give away any more information than was necessary.

Saladin raised his eyebrows in response.

"…I'm aware, milord."

"Do you know the dubious nature of your conception?" Saladin asked a little tersely glaring at his old friend Hufflepuff who was chuckling as he set Badger on the floor.

Harry was blushing crimson and could literally feel the heat of his skin. "Yes, milord," he murmured dipping his head further.

Badger once set on the floor waddled over to the strange boy's feet to sniff. With great snorting breathes he did just that and deciding the boy smelt reasonable he dumped himself on the boy's feet.

"Then you are aware that you have two biological fathers. Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Sly…"

"Slytherin…" Harry finished for Saladin looking up, still blushing and nodding his head sadly. "I know." He ducked his head once more and bent over to pet Badger who obligingly rolled over.

"It is naught something to be ashamed of, Tristian," Lord Hufflepuff said gently in his gruff voice while leaning as far forwards as his tired old bones would allow him.

Harry wasn't able to reply he shook his head finding it somehow harder to breathe easy. Saladin's hands came to rest on both Harry's shoulders, gentle comforting. But when Saladin spoke it wasn't to Harry. "If Milord Hufflepuff doesn't mind I'll need to speak with Tristian in private for some time."

"Of course, of course," Hufflepuff nodded pulling himself out of his chair and he winked at Harry. "Come along Badger."

Harry watched Badger's slowly retreating hind and all too soon the door clicked shut and he was alone with Saladin Slytherin. Saladin released Harry's shoulders from his gentle grasp and glided to sit in the chair that had been vacated by Lord Hufflepuff.

"As his lordship said, you need not be ashamed of your parentage. But in the same breathe I need to advise you to be cautious." Harry glanced up at Saladin Slytherin who he noted sat regally as if he were a King. Harry nodded because that was the only response his slow moving mind could make up to do.

"I am Lord Saladin Slytherin, father of Salazar Slytherin, Tristian," Saladin continued in his gentle voice he paused for a moment to allow Harry to digest this information. "Your grandfather, child, and your guardian for now."

Harry blinked in rapid succession. "You mentioned caution, milord?" Harry murmured blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

Saladin regarded Harry with solemn sea green eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Harry had the distinct impression his grandfather already had a headache.

"Both the Gryffindor and Slytherin clans are powerful and with great power often come great foes. You met one of my more bitter enemies in Fredrick Ball's office. I must impress on you to stay within the safety of Hogwarts Castle and the grounds surrounding the school. You must not stray. If you do you'll have to answer to me and your fathers…"

Harry barely stopped himself from gulping. "Yes sir," Harry blurted to let Saladin now he got the message.

"It was with those considerations that I created your alias, which you must stick to at all times. In public you may only address me as milord or sir, nothing else, same goes to your fathers. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir."

"It isn't safe for knowledge of your true existence and identity to be spread. Your clan's colours are reds, greens and golds. You are here at Hogwarts under my tutelage but as my fostered young relative I will allow both Godric and Salazar to teach you. I may have 'fostered' you but you must also keep in mind you are the son of two founders of this school I am merely acting as a mediator. You will hold both fathers in equal regard am I clear?"

"Yes sir," Harry mumbled humbly looking down at his hands self consciously.

"Now that I have impressed upon you the dangers of your circumstances we can move onto more pleasant introductions. Welcome to the Slytherin clan, Tristian Wolfe."

Harry nodded as the numb feeling seemed to have slowly crept through his body. Everything seemed surreal at any moment Harry thought he would wake up and find it had all just been a dream.

"You've been listless the last few days with a strong sleeping drought so it would be useless to ask if you are hungry."

A small wooden table with a gigantic silver platter full of fruits, sweet meats and breads suddenly appeared in front of Harry. Being used to magic Harry didn't stir at the sudden appearance.

"You've grown up around magic then boy," Saladin stated seeing the lack of Harry's reaction. "Good. Salazar was most pleased when we found your wand."

Harry started and despite knowing his wand was not there he clapped his hands over his hips looking for his pockets. Saladin smiled wanly and pulled Harry's wand from his top pocket. Leaning over Saladin offered the wand to Harry who meet his grandfather half way.

Harry took his wand a little too quickly and shoved it into his voluminous robes.

"Eat, child," Saladin insisted before standing regally and wrapping his robes about him.

Harry obeyed and reached out for something that looked slightly familiar. This happened to be a piece of fruit that looked like it might be a peach but was not a peach. He had it half way to his mouth when someone crashed through the door. Harry froze like a thief that had been caught red handed.

"Godric!" Saladin hissed. Harry winced the effect of Saladin's solemn voice was somehow worse than yelling. "What's the meaning of this?"

The wizard that Harry vaguely remembered from his earlier adventures glanced up somewhat surprised. His beard was sparse on his chin and cheeks, neatly trimmed his underrobes Harry noticed was gold with an overrobe of deep set crimson. In his fist was a squirming man dressed solely in black.

"Erebus has a confession, milord Slytherin," Godric said slowly his eyes never leaving Harry.

Harry was still sitting frozen to his spot transfixed on the wizard that he now knew was Godric Gryffindor: father number one. Harry felt his heart start to palpitate faster in his chest. He had not expected to come face to face with his fathers so quickly. His grandfather was enough for one day.

"Godric really is that anyway to enter my father's quarters unannounced?"

Another figure dressed in elegant green and silvers stepped casually into the room. Harry immediately recognised the similarities of the new comer and his new found grandfather. Long black hair and a thin fine boned skeleton seemed to favour the Slytherin clan. Enter father number two.

Harry finally decided to place the peach back onto the platter. He shuffled restlessly aware that every eye on the room was trained upon him. In turn he determinedly studied the rug that decorated the floor underneath his feet.

The man dressed solely in black crawled comically over to Harry. Harry had to resist the urge to kick the man back. He didn't like this man too much for some reason.

"Is this him then?" the man inquired as he stopped by Harry's knee. Harry turned his face away as he did not want to make eye contact.

A shaking pale hand snaked around Harry's chin forcing Harry to look down upon the man at his feet. "What a blessed, blessed child."

Harry wrenched his chin away from the man's grip before standing angrily. "Don't touch me! How dare you call me blessed!" Harry cried retreating a few steps away. For a moment he forgot that he was in the presences of his fathers and grandfather. He sneaked a quick glance at the elder wizards. Salazar looked somewhat miffed, while Godric seemed to be smirking proudly.

"Tristian, calm yourself," Saladin Slytherin said neutrally. "There will be time later to vent your anger."

Harry nodded wearily, crossed his arms and point black refused to sit nearby the cowering man.

"A thousand pardons, Master Slytherin-Gryffindor, if I had unknowingly offended you," the man in black pompously started. "I am…"

"I'm aware of who you are," Harry snapped harshly. "And let me tell you Mr. Prior you could apologise and beg for pardon for a thousand and one years and still I would not forgive you for the wrongs you have committed against me."

"But I am your creator…" Erebus Prior was now resembling a fish out of water. Obviously whatever reaction he expected from his creation was not outraged indignation.

"I am nothing but a weapon, Mr. Prior. That is what you have created: a _weapon_! No good for anything but destruction. I'm a logistical nightmare… a signed death warrant if you will. So don't you dare make a claim over me or I'll…"

Salazar Slytherin stepped further into the room and past the dazed Erebus Prior. He snaked his arms around Harry's shoulders. "Calm now my lad. Do not let your anger control you." Salazar was standing so close to Harry that his breath tickled Harry's neck.

Harry nodded and breathed deeply before giving a death glare that could kill a Hippogriff at ten paces. Salazar's arms were still tight around Harry's shoulders as he could physically restrain the younger wizard from any more outbursts.

Godric cleared his throat gaining Harry's attention. For a moment father and son locked eyes. Godric however quickly severed the connection by glancing at Saladin. "Perhaps Erebus' confession can wait. There are more important things requiring attention." Godric eyes snapped back to Harry, making Harry's stomach drop to the ground.

Saladin nodded curtly. Harry opened his mouth to argue but at a firm squeeze from Salazar decided not to.

"You have Gryffindor's infamous temper you must learn to curb that," Salazar said softly above Harry's ear.

"Yes sir," Harry mumbled trying to sound contrite he glanced over to Erebus. "I'll behave as long as _he_ does."

Hearing Harry's somewhat sullen response Erebus nearly choked on his tongue. Godric actually snorted and shook his head almost sadly. Salazar however cuffed Harry's head.

"Ow!"

"No son of mine is blatantly cheeky," Salazar hissed.

"Nor mine," Godric growled from his corner.

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. He did not want to become the common fighting ground of Salazar and Godric. He mumbled a stammered apology and shifted uneasily under the elder wizards' blatant stare.

"The boy has been informed of his role he must perform?" Salazar removed his arm slowly from around Harry's shoulder. His movement was cautious as if to gauge Harry's reaction. Harry for his part froze.

"He has been told," Saladin confirmed with a gentle nod of his head.

Harry blushing furiously turned his head to the side so that he would not have to look at either father as they prowled about the room.

"He knows who we are?" Godric inquired. It was almost as if the man was holding his breath.

"Yes, sir, I know," Harry murmured. "But that does not mean that I understand."

Godric sighed and rubbed his beard in contemplation. "Ah and what is it that you understand not?"

Harry blinked a little surprised by the question. He had assumed his own understanding would not be considered a priority to these wizards. But all the adults were patiently waiting for him to speak. Even Erebus Prior seemed interested.

For a moment Harry floundered, his brain had seemed to have grown numb. Harry waved his hands about as the words slowly formed on his tongue. "How? How is this possible? Are you pansies?" Harry asked using a term he had heard his Uncle use on the odd occasion.

Godric blinked slowly in confusion. "As you can see my lad, I'm most certainly not some type of flower."

Harry snorted and struggled to find another term that wasn't so insulting. In the end he decided for the blunt approach. "Gay?"

Salazar crossed his arms against his chest. "I'm not particularly very happy at this instant, no."

Feeling flustered Harry felt his cheeks burn. "No you don't understand." Harry shook his head.

"Then what is it you are trying to ask from us?" Saladin inquired knitting his elegant brows together. Harry thought that made the man look older but somewhat wiser.

Shaking his head to clear any stray thoughts Harry decided to use simple language. "You're not in a sexual relationship with each other, are you?"

Everyone froze in the wake of Harry's question. Godric swallowed heavily all colour drained from his flushed cheeks. Salazar on the other hand seemed unusually flabbergasted. Saladin was rubbing the bridge of his nose as if to fend off an unwanted headache.

Erebus Prior however found the whole situation funny. He choked on his laugher but alas a chuckle escaped his lips. "What did you think I did to create you boy? Have Lord Godric and Salazar pro creating like laboratory specimens?"

Harry flushed further and stole a glance at his fathers, only to be mortified that neither had regained their senses.

"What was I suppose to think?" Harry sneered at Erebus. "I exist and by rights I shouldn't exist."

Unfortunately Erebus Prior was still laughing, stuffing a large handkerchief in his mouth to muffle his chuckles of glee. It was unfortunate because Harry lost his temper and found another extortionary talent all within a matter of seconds.

"Burn in hell!" Harry roared at the mad potions master and to his shock Erebus' cloak erupted into flames. Not your ordinary flames but burning white tongues.

"Argh! I'm on fire!" Erebus screamed rolling around on the floor in hopes of quenching the magical flames.

Unfortunately Harry was still angry. He stormed towards the door, completely oblivious to his agape audience. "Oh go choke on some polyjuice," Harry snapped at Erebus who was still screaming on the floor, before slamming the door behind him.


	10. Torn Between Worlds

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Ten. Torn Between Worlds**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 18th November 1060: 12:11 pm**

Harry, now formally known as Tristian Wolfe, dashed madly down the corridor. Only to realise a moment later that this Hogwarts was different from what he had known in his own time. He didn't have a clue where he was going. He stopped for a short moment leaning against the cool brick of the castle.

Everything at the moment seemed like a cruel intolerable nightmare. He couldn't cope with this life: of that he was sure. A life where he would have two fathers whom he was expected to respect but publicly they would be no more that teachers. Then there was the terrible truth that he had to be careful not to change time too much. He didn't expect to see Ron or Hermione ever again either…

It was horrible. He was stuck in the founders' time a son to two gr eat wizards and yet not and he was already extremely homesick. What he wouldn't do for a friendly face right now?

With these dreary thoughts Harry made his way through the long silent corridors following the instinctive drive of his feet. It was only a matter of minutes later when he found himself standing at the Entrance Hall.

Shrugging his shoulders he strolled out to the open and down the long winding path, that was still there during his school days in the future, towards a secluded place near the lake.

Harry had no idea how long he had been sitting by the lakeside. He chanced a glance upwards and caught sight of a magnificent sight. A large black stallion stood on the other side of the lake watching him intently. The horse bowed his head somewhat sternly revealing two long and very pointed twisted horns.

"A bicorn," Harry whispered to himself.

The bicorn's ears twitched at Harry's soft voice but remained firm in his stance. If Harry didn't know better he would have assumed the bicorn was there to stand guard to ensure he didn't wander any further.

Slowly Harry got to his feet and eyed the creature. "Okay I'm going back," he grumbled.

The bicorn nodded his large crowned head and stamped his foot as if to say hurry up then.

Harry sighed heavily and turned away towards the castle. When he glanced over his shoulder to look once more on the magical beast it was gone.

'

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**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Tristian Wolfe's Chambers 18th November 1060: 10:34 pm**

Harry had gladly taken Ulrich's excuse that he shouldn't be up and about to skip having dinner in the Great Hall. Harry had sat with Lord Slytherin the Elder's servant and ate while Ulrich told him tales of his life.

"Does Lord Slytherin have house elves?" Harry asked.

Ulrich seemed puzzled by the question. "No young sir. That he does not."

"Why?"

"It would be a disgrace for him to have a house elf," Ulrich stated firmly. Harry tilted his head to the side.

"Why?"

"You sound much like your brother when he was small," Ulrich grumbled ripping a hunk of a turkey leg at the same time. "Why this Ulrich? How so Ulrich? Never stop asking questions."

"I'm curious," Harry quipped back seeing the playing light in Ulrich's eyes. Ulrich as Saladin's personal serving man had been told the secret of Harry's true identity and Harry suspected charged with keeping him safe and informed.

"Well of course you are," Ulrich returned blithely. "Would nae be a son of Gryffindor if you weren't."

Harry snorted. "It's just that I don't understand, is all."

"Well you see, the Slytherins are a respected clan rich and very powerful."

Harry nodded. This was not new news to him at all.

"House elves are for those clans that cannae afford to pay for help about the manor house. See there are many of us magical folk not well trained or able to feed families during years of famine, so richer wizards hire the help of those who need employment and payment. Wizarding kind help their own."

"Oh."

"Course with this school 'ere now, the next generation would be more educated like and there won't be many magical slaves to 'rescue'."

"Were you a slave?" Harry blinked and held his breath.

Ulrich rolled up his sleeve to reveal an ugly tattoo of an eye and two runes that he could not read. "I was a slave in my younger days, yes."

Harry sat for a moment deep in thought. Ulrich was happy to comply and sit in companionship. It was a soft rap on the door that startled them both into realisation. With a wan smile Ulrich stood and opened the other side of the door.

"Milord it's a little late for visiting isn't it?" Ulrich stepped aside revealing none other than Godric Gryffindor.

Harry hadn't seen either of his fathers or his grandfather since he had left Erebus Prior burning on his grandfather's floor. He chanced a glance up at Godric's face and was relieved to see that the lion founder didn't seem to be angry.

Godric was wearing only nightshirt covered over in a long scarlet robe. He flicked his hand listlessly communicating the fact that Ulrich had been dismissed for the night. Father and son watched in silence as the serving man left.

"You should be abed," Godric stated running his hand over a candle flame. The small light flickered then died.

Harry having nothing to say to Godric's comment nodded wordlessly.

Godric tilted his head to the side his deep brown eyes studied Harry intensely. "I came to see that you were alright."

"I'm fine," Harry murmured carelessly.

Godric's eyes glittered and Harry shuffled uneasily. "You still think yourself as 'Harry'."

"I cannot change who I am; no matter how much I wish to please you," Harry retorted softly wrapping his arms around his middle.

"'Tis only a name child," Godric soothed.

Harry snorted irritably. "It is my identity that has changed. Now I must face this uncertainty that I have fervently wished to ignore."

Godric sighed heavily and crossed the room in long purposeful strides. "Tristian…"

Harry tensed at the name. Godric seeing this laid a firm on Harry's shoulder. "'Tis only a word, Tristian. It can only hold a sway of power over you if you allow it to."

Harry nodded miserably still not at all feeling free.

"Think of yourself as Tristian an extended version of your 'Harry'. You are right. You cannot change yourself. Tristian and Harry are the same boy."

Harry nodded again feeling overwhelmed and stupid that his only response he could think of was to bob his head. "It's just…"

"Your world has spun of its axel and once everything had stopped everything had changed."

"I want to go home," Harry confessed quickly.

Godric smiled sadly as if he had expected this statement. "I don't expect that this new world, new family can make up for what you have lost, Trist. But we are family. Even though this masquerade we _are_ family."

"I know," Harry breathed in frustration. "I'll miss them."

Godric sighed again and tightened his grip on Harry shoulders. "I brought you this."

Harry glimpsed at the diary his mother had written in. "I don't want to read any more," he gabbled pulling away from Godric's embrace, suddenly aware he was trembling.

Godric seemed confused. "But it's yours. It fell on Salazar's head just after you appeared."

Harry snorted in ill concealed humour. "I tried to warn him," Harry whispered to himself shaking his head.

The corners of Godric's mouth twitched. "Salazar is not known for his ability to listen to others."

Harry sighed again and turned away and Godric was obliged to grab his upper arm to stop him from wandering away. The lion founder firmly placed the book his Harry's hands holding the younger wizard's grip in place with his own sword calloused hands.

"The book is yours; these are the words of your mother. I've taken the liberty of marking the entries that might interest you."

"You _read _my mother's diary?" Harry was incredulous.

"I was curious," Godric said in defence. "I wanted to know what kind of woman bore you. She was a good woman, yes?"

Harry nodded wordless.

"And I say. Nigh a thousand years you have time travelled now that is a feat isn't it?"

Harry's jaw dropped and Godric laughed lightly tapping his cheeks lightly. "Now to bed with you."

Harry nodded numbly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Trist." Godric turned Harry attention to him once he reached the door. "Don't worry your brothers will love you."

'

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**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, The Round Room, 19th November 1060: 8:23 am.**

Harry stood nervously beside his grandfather's chair and wrung his hands in anticipation careful to keep at least one eye on the door. Saladin seemed his usual calm self, his eyes were half closed his hands forming tall steeples.

"For Merlin's sake, child, take a seat. You're making me nervous," Saladin sighed.

Harry shifted from foot to foot before deciding it would be best to follow his grandsire's instructions quickly. For all his calmness Saladin Slytherin did not look like a patient man. So Harry obediently took a seat opposite him and turned his face away.

Saladin half opened one eye and sensing the scrutiny Harry meet the steely gaze. "Was Mister Prior badly burnt?" Harry hazard slowly as he had been expecting Godric to had lectured him about frying important guests. So far nothing had been sad about the incident.

"Erebus' finest cloak was damaged beyond repair, his hair was singed and an eyebrow was burnt of," Saladin said dryly.

"Oh," Harry felt the stirrings of guilt. But that was destined not to last long.

"Unfortunately however he somehow escaped any further damage despite Salazar's valiant efforts to dose him thoroughly with my finest wine."

Harry made a squeaking noise in reply trying to imagine his stern father in a fireman's suite and clown's make up dosing a burning potions master. It wasn't a pretty sight. Harry's musings however were cut short by the door opening.

"Ah boys do come in," Saladin said without turning around.

Harry fought the impulse to stand up to greet his blood brothers who were surely stepping through the door. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying out in nervous as two snotty nosed boys flanked Saladin Slytherin.

"Now, now boys no reason to be hostile," Saladin chided. "This is your brother Tristain Wolfe I expect you will treat him with the utmost respect."

"Of course grandfather," the nearest boy drawled. His eyes flicked up towards Harry and hardened. "I see the potion accident has your eyes, grandfather."

Harry's eyes widened as he took in his obvious Slytherin brother. His long ebony hair hung like silk down his shoulders and was not tied back. His brother's stare was hard and cold.

"_Silas Aries Harrison Slytherin!_" Saladin snarled turning his head slowly towards his now cringing grandson for effect.

Harry smirked coolly wordlessly and raised his eyebrow at Silas. Saladin turned back to Harry who smiled innocently much to Silas' chagrin. "Your brother Silas," Saladin sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose. A movement which Harry realised quickly in the few times he had been in his presence that his grandfather had a sudden headache.

With swift graceful movements Harry stepped up to Silas and extended his hand, which his brother took albeit gingerly. "Charmed I'm sure," Harry drawled in a manner that would make even Draco Malfoy green with envy.

"And this gentleman here is Axcel Gryffindor your other brother," Saladin indicated loftily to a sandy haired boy who stood rigidly to attention. His hair was shorter Harry noticed with waves which explained his own hair he supposed- ebony long with some waves.

Harry turned towards the other Gryffindor, feeling a little safer if not confident. He half smiled and reached his hand out to greet him. Axcel on the other hand had other plans.

"Being as you were not conceived from a marriage bed," Axcel said stepping away from Harry. "I shall treat you with the disdain of your rank as my father's bastard. A blot in Gryffindor history."

Harry felt he had been slapped with a great force. He frowned and stepped away blinking away his confusion. What had he done wrong? Slowly he let his hand drop to his side glaring daggers at Silas who was smirking gleefully.

One glance at Saladin and Harry knew he was on his own with Axcel.

"Of course," Harry said. Axcel's mouth twitched in amusement but Harry was not finished yet. "Your Majesty, I your most humbled servant will do my utmost to kiss your royal…" Harry executed a deep bow full of sarcasm and glanced sideways at his grandfather. "… Ass."

Harry glanced up through his fringe at Axcel who now was changing to a lovely brick colour.

"Why would I possess a royal donkey?" Axcel demanded sharply.

Harry couldn't help it. He laughed. "In simple words for your obviously strained Gryffindor brain…" Harry glanced over to Silas who audibly choked and seemed to forget he was ganging up on Harry with the Gryffindor boy. "Treat me like how you like. But don't expect me to take it like a good little serf. Be ye warned I bite back," Harry snarled.

"That's enough Tristian," Saladin said harshly. "You've said quite enough already."

Harry glared at his grandfather feeling somewhat hard done by that nothing had been said to his brothers. Perhaps he would always be seen as the blot on the Gryffindor/ Slytherin blood lines.

"Silas. Axcel. You are dismissed," Saladin continued. With one last look of fury the two left leaving behind a glowering Harry.

"Your brothers have great potential to become your allies," Saladin said quietly when the door had been closed behind Axcel and Silas for some time.

Harry snorted incredulously. "Did you expect me just to let him attack me like that?"

Saladin sighed heavily and rubbed his temples. "Unity is what our families need. Is that too much to ask for?"

Harry snorted again and folded his arms. _'I won't be accepted these families. Not in a million years,'_ he thought furiously.

'

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'

Harry lay uncomfortably on the ground beside the lake where he had first seen the bicorn. He had brought an apple just in case he saw the creature again. He wanted to see if he could lure the bicorn to him so he could pat his long muscled neck or touch his velvety nose.

Despite his reservations Harry knew he would go home someday and Hermione would never forgive him if he didn't record anything down about his experiences in the past. So for the last hour and a half he had written down absolutely everything from the fact he was not wearing any underwear down to how much he wanted to punch Axcel's nose in.

Journal writing can only hold one's interest for so long and Harry set his quill to the side and turned onto his back and closed his eyes. He had been fortunate that his grandfather had given him the day to 'find his feet' and the students of the castle all had lessons to attend.

He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again the bicorn was standing over him. He started but the bicorn ignored him and nosed the diary intently as if he was reading it. Harry shook his head and chased away the ridiculous thought. It couldn't be possible. Turning his head to the side Harry read his own words splashed with his own sentimental tears.

'… _I just want to go home.' _

"Home," Harry breathed to himself. "I just don't belong here."

The bicorn snorted as if indignantly and nudged Harry's cheeks as if to say 'buck up mate.' Harry reached up and rubbed the velvety nose to which the bicorn didn't seem thrill about.

"And I suppose you think you know better, eh?" Harry asked the creature. The bicorn stomped his feet and shook his mane.

Harry shook his head ruefully and pulled out an apple. "Here you go bought you a present."

The bicorn stepped back and blinked at Harry as if incredulous. Then with almost a roll of sea green eyes he step forward and plucked the apple out of Harry's hand before disappearing again.

Harry closed his eyes once more just wanting to be at peace. Unfortunately it was not meant to be.

"_Stupid stomping silly creature disturbing my precious sleepy time… oh look squishy log… warm squishy log."_

"_Eh?"_ Harry blurrily blinked his eyes to the hissing voice only to find something crawling along his stomach.

"_Hmmm… nice squishy log… my squishy log…" _

Harry blinked again this time to see a small green garter snake curling on his belly. _"Erm excuse me..."_ Harry hazard in parseltongue.

The small snake lifted his pointed head and flicked his tongue at Harry. _"It speaks. My squishy log speaks."_

Harry frowned. It was a tad disconcerting to go to sleep to find one had been claimed by a snake as a suitable place to sleep.

"_Greetings squishy log… I is Sidonius."_

"_Erm pleasure I'm sure but I'm most certainly am not a log."_

"_Sure?"_

"_Positive."_

"_Disappointing."_

Harry suddenly had one of his famous ideas. He was lonely and he was a parseltongue… _"My room is warm and safe. You can sleep there."_

"_Where is this room? Show me."_

"_I'll take you if you like, Sidonius." _

Harry stretched out his hand for Sidonius to slither up and waited for the snake to make himself comfortable. _"You'll love my room."_

"_I sure I will,"_ Sidonius hissed lazily closing his eyes. _"I'm sure I will."_


	11. When Hunters Become the Hunted

**Sorry people. Even though I'm so far ahead on this story life has just gotten in the way. I'm now officially a relief teacher… yay me… so that means I don't know what, who or where I'm teaching until I get the phone call 6:00am in the morning. I'm sorry I've been slack…. Just stressed… and somedays I would rather slit my wrists with a blunt icy pole stick than do something productive….**

**Illeanah**

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**A/N: Harry is beginning to think of himself as 'Tristian' so I'll be using that name more often to make it less confusing. **

**Chapter Eleven. When the Hunter Becomes Hunted**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 26th November 1060**

Tristian rather thought both his fathers must be blind to the uneasy tense atmosphere between the three brothers. It had been nearly a week and yet none of them had uttered a civil word to another, even though Tristian had dined with both families. The apparent dislike between the three had the unfortunate side effect of most Gryffindors and Slytherins hating him by default because of Silas' and Axcel's attitude towards him.

Tristian had also found that being a relation of Slytherin that the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students had no desire to 'disturb' him. He had to settle for the rare smile or nod.

So when Godric, rapped on his door one morning and informed Tristian of his idea to better acquaint himself with Axcel and his cohort of followers Tristian nearly choked.

"You want me to go hunting with Axcel?" Tristian exclaimed glancing up at Godric in horror. "But…"

Godric opened the door that separated himself and Tristian before stepping through and closing the gap. "I don't understand the problem. It is a fine day for hunting and a free day for all students. Silas will be accompanying Axcel. It is a perfect opportunity."

Tristian did choke on his tongue. "But… I… I can't."

Godric crossed his arms across his chest a sure sign he was agitated. "Why not?"

How does one tell one's father that his other son hates your guts? The answer seemed simple but ominous to Tristian: you don't say anything against your brother to your father. Unfortunately that meant Tristian stood with his mouth half open trying to find an adequate excuse not to go with Axcel and friends.

"Come, Trist, you've cooped yourself in these chambers far too much this last week. It's time for you to meet some young lads instead of those books you pretend to 'study'." Godric took Tristian's upper arm gently but firmly and steered him out the door. There was no use in Tristian arguing. Godric was determined that he go and get some fresh air and make friends, the later was not likely.

Tristian let his mind wander, not really in the mood to hear his father sing praises about Axcel's many adventures and achievements. It was enough to make him sick.

Godric's conversation died as they approached Axcel, Silas and some other boys from both Slytherin and Gryffindor house. Tristian followed on Godric's heels a little reluctantly.

"What's _he_ doing here?" Axcel whined glaring at Tristian.

"Tristian shall accompany you today, Axcel," Godric said firmly. "It is a good opportunity for Silas to get to know his kinsman." There was something in the founder's voice that added mentally – 'and you your brother'.

"Thank you for your concern, Lord Gryffindor," Silas hissed sneering at Tristian. "But we are distantly related and have no concern to each other."

"Ah," Godric sighed, propelling Tristian forwards towards the other boys with his hand in the middle of his back. "But you are related."

"But father, he has _no_ horse," Axcel whined.

"Then he may take my mare," Godric quipped crossing his arms against his chest in a gesture that clearly stated: do-not-argue.

Axcel sent a glace of pure loathing at Tristian. "Fine," he muttered as he turned his back, "This way then _Tristian."_

Even the way Axcel said his name made Tristian want to back out. Godric pushed Tristian forwards again and Tristian stumbled after his brother – all the other boys were watching curiously as if waiting for one of the brothers to start cursing each other.

"Quite the favourite, now aren't you?" Axcel muttered angrily when they were alone. Tristian opted not to reply.

"Of all things_: father's_ mare! You've confounded him he obviously can't see what a horrible, filthy, mangy little leach you are. Sucking both of our clans dry with your pathetic drama."

Tristian watched wearily as Axcel roughly saddled and bridled an intelligent black mare. He felt more than a little stupid standing idly as his brother worked cursing him under his breath. Axcel thrust the reins at Tristian when he was done and stormed out of the stall.

"Why do I have the feeling today is going to be the longest day of my life?" Tristian muttered to himself. The black mare snorted indignantly and nuzzled his shoulder.

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Living in the twenty first century meant that Tristian had never had much practice riding horse. In fact this was the first time he had been on the back of a horse. Dudley had ridden on the back of a pony at a farm when he was five and that was as close as Tristian ever got to those creatures.

Therefore Tristian was more than happy to be at the rear of the group, alone and ignored. One of the Slytherin boys, a small ginger haired boy had tried to make conversation with Tristian. One hateful look from Silas however soon shut him up.

"Don't worry," the ginger haired boy had said to Tristian in a whisper before he left. "No one likes me either."

That made Tristian feel so much better about his situation.

The group stopped for lunch and bum sore and grumpy Tristian slipped from the mare's back and fell in a heap. The other boys snickered at Tristian's poor attempt but Tristian ignored the jibes.

"He's from a derelict part of the Slytherin clan in Wales," Silas sneered to the other boys. "Came with absolutely nothing, relying on my grandfather's generosity… heard from grandfather that he is not very intelligent either."

"There is nothing wrong coming from a poorer family," Tristian snapped thinking of his friend back home: Ron, whose family never had much money to splash around. "Hardship builds character."

"You are hardly living in hardship, serf," Axcel snarled. "You've fallen in the lap of luxury by sheer dumb luck."

"Exactly," Tristian snapped taking the reins of the black mare. "You don't know what you have."

Tristian tugged on the reins of the black mare but she stood stubbornly still. "Fine," Tristian snapped at her as he stormed off in a huff. He didn't storm too far; he wouldn't put it past Axcel and company to leave without him and to fend for himself. So he sat nearby on a rock and started to have a good sulk.

Unfortunately said sulk was cut short by someone knocking him unconscious.

'

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The first thing Tristian noticed when he come back to the world of the living was that he was already standing up. He yawned and blurry opened his eyes. Darkness met him he blinked and then realised with a jolt that it was already early evening. He tried to lift his hands to rub his eyes but found he was complete immobilised.

For the next few minutes Tristian struggled against his invisible bonds in a panic. Axcel and friends had thought of something more mean spirited than just leave him – they had effectively super glued him to a tree. And Tristian knew there would be nothing he could say to elevate Godric's anger when he tramped home late: that is if he ever escaped the hold of the tree.

"Why me?" Tristian whined to the stars. "Why is it the fates seem to have it in for me?"

"Indeed," a voice answered.

Tristian groaned and started to struggle futilely with his invisible bonds.

"What have we here?" a cloaked figure stepped out of the clearing and Tristian only struggled even more for his bonds to release him. Tristian recognised the figure instantly of Malic: the insane werewolf who attack him just over a week ago. It wasn't a face Tristian was going to forget so easily.

"Struggling doesn't seem to be helping you boy," Malic whispered maliciously. Tristian stared at his grandfather's enemy through his dark fringe.

"Did your dear Uncle Saladin tell you about me?" Malic to a menacing step forwards and Tristian suppressed a shudder of fear.

"You're trembling my lad, tell me are you afraid?" Malic was now nose to nose with Tristian. Slowly the werewolf traced the contours of Tristian's jaw line. Tristian froze his mind had seemed to have gone to putty.

"Such young sweet blood is pumping through your veins." Malic tipped Tristian's chin to the side expose the white of his neck. Tristian watched out of the corner of his eye, helpless as Malic grinned and readied himself to snap his neck in two. "Dogs and wolves always bite the neck of their pray, boy. Should be relatively painless after the initial bite."

Tristian shivered in revulsion and happened to glance over Malic's shoulder where movement caught his eye.

"Now we say goodnight…" Malic's menacing eyes lit up. Tristian gasped and wrench his neck out of werewolf's grasp at the same time a great black something charged.

Malic had been so preoccupied with scaring Tristian before killing him only realised the danger he was in too late. He darted to the side with amazing agility as a much larger creature charged.

Tristian gasped as he made out the black bicorn that he had seen on two occasions already. The stallion for his part ignored Tristian as he lowered his great crowned head and charged at Malic who had his wand out and was spewing hexes and curses. But the bicorn continued with his deadly charge and Malic had to stumble and jump out of the angry creatures path.

The bicorn was not to be deterred from his path however, he bellowed angrily and continued chasing Malic mercilessly until it was quite sure the werewolf had left for good.

Tristian watched opened mouthed as the large bicorn made its way over to him. Its sea-green eyes watched him accusingly.

"Erm… thanks?" Tristian hazard uncertainly still struggling somewhat.

The bicorn was still eying him sternly but nudged his shoulder gently. "I'm fine only freezing," Tristian said.

The bicorn snorted in Tristian's face covering him with horsy but warm breath.

"And I'm pretty much stuck here," Tristian added for good measure.

Tristian could almost see the bicorn raise his eyebrows at his last statement. The bicorn however continued to lower his great horned head and slashed at the tree much to Tristian's consternation. Whatever the clever creature did loosened Tristian so that he fell in an undignified heap on the floor.

"Aw," Tristian complained rubbing his sore muscles. The bicorn merely stamped his feet in impatience and lowered himself to his front knees.

"Oh no," Tristian said shaking his head. "I've had enough of horses."

The bicorn looked affronted and roughly nudged Tristian's shoulder so that he fell over again. Tristian eyed the bicorn. The bicorn eyed Tristian.

Needless to say the bicorn won and Tristian scrambled onto his back a moment later. Tristian only had a second to grab onto the black masses of mane before the bicorn took off at a heart racing gallop.

With very little experience of horses Tristian gritted his teeth, closed his eyes and clung as tightly as he could to the bicorn's neck. He had no idea how the animal knew where he wanted to go but sure enough he soon saw familiar sights when he was brave enough to open his eyes.

The bicorn's pace did not slow once they had reached the edges of the Hogwarts wards. They careened through the gardens until they reached the dark courtyard.

By the time Tristian slipped from the back of the bicorn his elbow was grabbed harshly and he was spun around. Godric stood over him anger gleaming in his dark eyes.

"What possessed you to run off alone like that?" Godric snarled shaking Tristian sharply. "Have you no concern for your family… you've had the whole castle in an uproar boy!"

Tristian gasped desperately wanting to shake Godric's grip off him and painfully aware of Axcel smirking at him from the archway.

"But I…" Tristian started.

"Silence! I will _not _have this insolence, pup!"

Tristian's eyes darted back to Axcel whose look of victory was enough to make him want to curse the other boy to the moon and back.

"Your selfishness has caused your brothers great distress."

Tristian could not help but scoff at Godric's words he only realised his mistake when Godric's palm smacked him hard against his cheeks and sent him sprawling. Shock was the first emotion that Tristian registered. He reached out and touched his cheek in unbelief at what had just transpired.

"Don't you dare even think of showing me such blatant disrespect again, boy. And I suggest you start finding your place in this family. Salazar's right you have not done yourself any favours this past week."

Godric swept away leaving Harry on the cold hard ground. Axcel stuttered up to Tristian grinning widely. "Lovely evening isn't it?"

Hand still over his stinging cheek Tristian glared up at Axcel.

"Aren't you going to answer, brother of mine?"

Angry, embarrassed and ashamed that he had allowed Axcel to get one up on him, Tristian got to his feet and made an attempt to pass his brother. "You're not my family," Tristian snarled clenching his fists.

Axcel smirked and shook his head. "And I was _so_ concerned about you, brother."

Furious Tristian took the bait. "I've never meet a Gryffindor who has disgraced himself as much as you today. You have no honour. You left me there to…"

Tristian could see the furious glint in Axcel's eye. He was aware his brother was going to punch his lights out but he just didn't care.

"To bed with both of you." Saladin Slytherin stood on the other side of the courtyard and stared sternly at the two arguing boys. "NOW!" he roared when neither made a move to obey him.

With one last murderous glance at his brother, Tristian swept past and determinedly walked away. When he reached the safety of the corridors he bolted so that no one would catch his tears of righteous anger.

Hitting the door of his chamber with a loud bang he wrenched the door open and slammed the door behind him.

Sidonius, who had taken up sleeping on Tristian's pillow, lifted his delicate diamond head and flicked his tongue.

"_Squishy?"_ the snake asked, using Tristian's pet name.

"_I'm okay," _Tristian mumbled back with a sob. _"I'm just so angry…"_

Tristian walked towards the bed and flopped down and brushed his tears on the softness of the pillow silk.

"_Someone is coming Squishy,"_ Sidonius hissed into Tristian's ear before diving under the covers. Tristian ignored the snake and attempted to bite back the tears.

The door opened slowly. "I've brought you some supper, young master." Ulrich's quiet voice cut through Tristian's sobs.

Not wanting to be seen crying, Tristian dried his eyes and indicated to the table silently. Ulrich stepped further into the room pointedly ignoring Tristian's tears as he placed the food on the side table.

"Lord Slytherin said that Malic was out tonight," Ulrich stated looking perturbed. "Did he hurt you master?"

"_No. But he is in a foul mood anyway,"_ Sidonius hissed from his hiding place.

"No," Tristian replied slowly trying to look innocent as Ulrich tilted his head to the side as if listening for something. "But I was scared."

"Only a fool wouldn't be scared," Ulrich said comfortingly. "What is it young master? Why are you so melancholy?"

Tristian sniffed. "I want to go home."

Ulrich sighed and sat on the bed beside Tristian. "Your grandfather thought as much. But this is your home now."

"Not that I'm ungrateful or anything but… I miss my family and friends."

"_Family and friends?"_ Sidonius hissed from under the covers. This time Ulrich's head definitely tilted. _"What about me? Eh? Or as Squishy forgot me now he can't see me underneath all his bed clothes? Eh? I thought I was your friend? Why do you hide me ? Are you ashamed of me?" _

Sidonius in his anger slithered from underneath the covers and flickered, his tongue at Tristian in rebuke. Ulrich paled somewhat and glanced from the snake to Tristian and back to the snake again.

"Oh my," Ulrich gasped. "You're a…"

"Please don't say anything," Tristian pleaded grabbing Ulrich's sleeve. "Please."

"You mistake me young master."

"Please…" Tristian pleaded. "I don't want to anger anyone."

"But Parseltongue runs in the family. Lord Slytherin would be so pleased to hear…"

"Please, I'm not ready for another revelation about me. And I don't need another reason for Silas to hate me."

Ulrich considered for a moment before nodding. "You should be in bed," the servant said before leaving Harry with his supper and insulted snake.


	12. Come Dance With ME!

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**A/N: Harry is beginning to think of himself as 'Tristian' so I'll be using that name more often to make it less confusing. **

**Chapter Twelve. Come Dance With Me!**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 27th November 1060 AD: 9:12am **

It was obviously Salazar's turn to tell Tristian off. He swept into the room, unannounced just as Tristian finished fumbling with the clasps of his cloak. Tristian eyed Salazar wearily painfully aware that it was the first time he had been alone with him.

Salazar for his part was eying Tristian critically but Tristian had had enough of his new found family intimidation so he blatantly refused to look away. Salazar for his part rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"I find you a curiosity," Salazar said slowly interrupting the uneasily silence. Tristian stared at him silently, vowing that he would not say anything untoward his father. It was not an easy feat; his grandfather had told him constantly that he spoke out of turn or inappropriately.

"Alienating yourself from your family will not aide you in making any allies here, lad," Salazar commented.

Tristian crossed his arms against his chest and glared mutinously at his father. "Perhaps that fault doesn't wholly lay at my feet," Tristian snapped quickly forgetting his vow of silence.

Salazar blinked slowly his steady gaze intensified. Then he laughed. Not a clear happy melodic laugh; but a slow calculating shrewd laugh. With three graceful glides he crossed the room to where Tristian was standing literally cringing at his approach. Before Tristian's mind could tell him to back away, Salazar had securely caught his chin.

Tristian flinched and breathed in quickly betraying his shock and sudden fear.

"Your tongue has run away with itself, child," Salazar hissed almost irritably. "Insolence does not go unpunished." The snake founder raised his hand casually before striking Tristian's pale cheek.

Tristian vaguely thought it didn't hurt as much as Godric's powerful blow but soon amended that thought as Salazar soundly slapped him again. Tristian blinked furiously and backed away quickly as Salazar released him.

"I never placed the blame on your shoulders," Salazar said calmly inspecting his nails. Tristian was sure he was looking quite pleased with himself. "Silas' lies to me did not go unpunished nor did his reckless behaviour."

Tristian blinked furiously still holding is smarting cheek. He felt righteous indignation swell and bubble into fury. His Slytherin father had known that Silas and Axcel had attacked him and left him out there; yet he had done nothing to help him. He swallowed his anger with difficult and glanced away from Slytherin.

"I see you are learning," Slytherin chortled.

Tristian clenched his teeth and bit his cheeks until he could taste the coppery taste of blood.

Slytherin smiled to himself thinly and swept from the room. "Blood is everything Tristian," he said stopping at the door. "Without family you are nothing, you can achieve nothing. You need us in this world Tristian you can't escape that fact."

Tristian snorted indigently when the door solidly closed behind his father.

"No," Tristian breathed at the door vehemently. "But I will have my revenge."

'

'

'

Tristian was becoming used to his grandfather's habits and knew that procrastinating would only provoke Saladin Slytherin's temper. So with a heavy heart he stalked to his grandfather's private rooms.

Steeling himself for his grandfather's notorious temper, Tristian knocked briskly and entered. Upon entering Tristian spied his grandfather standing in the middle of the room. Saladin Slytherin turned his eyes appraising Tristian coolly. Half expecting to be told off, Tristian ducked his head and closed the door firmly behind him.

Saladin however only merely sighed. "Take a seat."

"Yes, sir," Tristian murmured.

To Tristian great relief Saladin made no attempt to broach the subject of what had happened the day before with his brothers. Instead the old man placed a heavy candle holder in the middle of a small table.

"Magic, is a part of a wizard's or witch's innate core. It is what makes us different, so to speak from our Muggle cousins." By now Tristian was well accustomed to Saladin's approach of teaching, which included some lecture on the special characteristics of magics and/ or bloodlines. He could easily see where Salazar's view on purebloodism came from – from his father.

Saladin made himself comfortable and took the time to neatly fold his emerald robes about him.

"Today you will demonstrate your ability to access your magical centre _without_ the use of a wand, spells or words."

Tristian gawked at his grandfather. That was like saying cleaning bed pans without magics.

"Of course we will start with something seemingly small and insignificant." Saladin gestured loftily towards the candle holder where a silver candle suddenly appeared.

"Magic is another way of achieving a goal, whether it be through levitation, potions or transfiguration. The key is that there is always intent behind the action."

To demonstrate Saladin leaned over the candle and wafted his hand over the wick. Immediately a small flame flickered. Saladin repeated the action and the flame disappeared as if it had never had been.

"Magic is also energy. So behind your intent you need to learn to garner energy from your core. Your turn…"

Saladin gestured towards the candle once more.

Tristian sighed heavily and glared at the candle. Then with a curt nod from his grandfather sucked up his courage and willed the flame to reappear as his hand glide over the wick.

Nothing happened.

Tristian glared at the candle as if it had sinned terribly against him. His grandfather said nothing but merely settled back into his comfy chair and observed. Saladin Slytherin did plenty of 'observing' during Tristian's lessons.

Tristian back tracked in his mind what his grandfather had said. The lectures at the beginnings were always dotted with cues on how to perform to Saladin's standards. The trick was deciphering the clues.

Tristian vaguely remembered Saladin talking about achieving goals and intent through magic. His goal was obviously to light the candle. Now he had to figure out how to achieve this.

Tristian stilled his spinning thoughts and let himself feel quiet. Magic was also energy and he wanted to produce heat energy.

Somewhat shakily Tristian lifted his hand again to try with his eyes still close and passed his hand close to the wick. Almost immediately he knew something had gone wrong. Energy passed through his body, magic he realised a little too late. It felt like a phantom burning sensation through his blood. While not painful it was somewhat disconcerting.

Tristian snapped his eyes open at his grandfather's yell. He was vaguely aware that his hands hand been grabbed and a colder energy was being used to quell the heat.

"Sorry," Tristian murmured quickly staring in disbelief at the molten liquid of the candle stick and the bubbling mass of wax which had effectively ruined his grandfather's table.

Saladin's eyes snapped up to Tristian's face then back to the misshapen pile. "No need to apologise," Saladin said briskly standing and with a flick of his wand the table had been banished. "You are powerful Tristian. More powerful than any apprentice that has ever entered through this castle."

Tristian looked away guiltily. That had been one of his grandfather's expensive pieces of furniture.

"With great power comes a lack of control."

Tristian sighed and averted his eyes. Saladin reached out and gripped his chin firmly. "But control can be taught to a pupil by a patient teacher, and Tristian I am a patient man. We will work backwards I want you to concentrate on heating metal so that it is soft but not liquid. Once you have a little more control we will work with something requiring less energy."

Saladin summoned a new table and a new candle stick without the candle. Tristian glanced up at his grandfather unsure. Saladin covered Tristian's hand with his own gently. "Great power should not be feared. But it should be harnessed. I shall help you harness your potential and slowly I will withdrawal my power so that you develop control independently."

Tristian looked glumly at the candle stick. "Now let us try again."

'

'

'

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 3rd December 1060, 7:23pm**

Due to Salazar's insistence Tristian now took his meals in the Great Hall sitting to his grandfather's left hand side. This new development had caused more jealously between the three brothers. Silas and Axcel sat with their classmates but Tristian sitting with his master had rubbed salt into the wounds. Tristian new this was just one more reason for his brothers to dislike him all the more.

The situation had its advantages however, meals in the Great Hall was a good opportunity for Tristian to play some pranks on his brothers in retribution for leaving him out in the wilds. It also had the advantage of Tristian having front row seats.

Tonight would be the night of his first round of retribution: namely on Silas Slytherin and his friends. It had taken a little bit of covert questioning to find the names of those Silas had accompanying him on the hunt but finally Tristian had pinpoint his targets had set up the prank.

Tristian knew his prank did not have to be elaborate. Any slight or humiliation would send Silas off the deep end. The trick was to pull the prank so that Silas knew he was behind it without letting any of his fathers knowing of his involvement.

Tristian was sitting in his normal seat surveying the hall in his usual silence, occasionally answering one of Helga Hufflepuff's well meaning questions. The badger founder had seemed to take a great liking to him.

"No siblings?"

Tristian took a moment to cut his venison and contemplate his answer. Neither of his fathers or his grandfather ever attempted to help him answer any of this questions. They seemed quite content in his ability to speak for himself.

"No milady," Tristian replied steadily. "None that I can speak off."

In the corner of his eye Tristian could have sworn he nearly saw his grandfather choke.

"How odd an only child," Rowena cut in. "'Tis a surprise that your parents allowed your Uncle to foster you, even with such a glorious career behind him."

"I'm Clan Laird, Rowena, I look after my own where it is required."

"Indeed I find it quite…" Helga Hufflepuff stopped in mid sentence as the doors to the Great Hall opened with a deafening boom. She paled and turned to Godric.

"What's the matter, Lady Hufflepuff, you look pale?" Tristian asked feigning concern.

Another boom silenced the hall and Tristian had to hold the edge of the seat to stop himself from laughing in anticipation.

A third boom announced the arrival of Tristian's prank. Two lines of suits of armour marched into the Great Hall. The armour clattered and clanged until they reached the Slytherin table.

Tristian was very pleased that each suit had correctly identified the intended target. Silas was looking rather small as he stared up at the suit of armour that hovered over him. He nearly toppled over in fright as the suit offered him its hand.

"Don't touch me!" Tristian heard Silas clearly exclaim.

All the founders were standing. Saladin's hand was on Tristian's shoulder. "Stay where you are."

Tristian nodded pretending to be as confused as everyone else. The founders' intervention was not going to save Silas and his friends at any rate.

Silas' protests were not enough to deter the suit of armour. All at once each suit plucked up their unfortunate victim and dragged them to the middle of the floor.

Music started to play as the Slytherin boys were dragged around the 'dance floor' by the possessed suits of armour. The Gryffindor table became a raucous mob of laughter. Tristian smiled thinly knowing the Gryffindors would be finding their just desserts soon.

Silas was attempting to fight his way from the suit of armour, which in turn was twisting him about as if he was an elegant female. The suits however had not been charmed to humiliate the Slytherins for too long.

After a minute or so of music the suits bowed low to their respective partners and took each by the hand, making a parody movements of a knight kissing his fair maiden's hand. Silas hissed in rage as his suit calmly exited the Great Hall. Red faced and embarrassed at being treated like woman in front of the whole school each of the Slytherins took their seat quietly: knowing for once they had been defeated.

Tristian ignored the snickering of the school population and returned to his meal.

"Which Gryffindor is responsible?" Tristian heard Salazar hissed.

Godric scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Truly I do not know which of my students could possibly pull of magic like that and be devious enough."

"Indeed," Salazar said dryly.

Tristian could have sworn Saladin had been staring at him suspiciously. But when he turned to his grandfather the Saladin refused to make eye contact.

"As I was saying," Hufflepuff continued obviously floundering to bring the conversation away from the prank. "It is endearing how Slytherins protect their family. It is what most of the clans are missing."

Tristian snorted to himself mentally.


	13. Playing Turkey

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**A/N: Harry is beginning to think of himself as 'Tristian' so I'll be using that name more often to make it less confusing. **

**Chapter Thirteen. Playing Turkey **

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 9th December 1060 AD: 5:42am**

Tristian stood alone up top the Astronomy Tower. It was the tallest tower of Hogwarts and hence had the clearest view of the countryside surrounding the castle.

The weather temperature had suddenly dropped and last night it had started snowing. Tristian grimaced and wrapped his cloak about himself to protect himself from the cold. Sidonius his slippery reptile friend had elected to stay behind in the warm chambers. But Tristian was edgy. Saladin had just informed him of the Winter Solstice, which unfortunately seemed to be the wizarding equivalent to Christmas. This included gift giving, feasting and merriment. Tristian was miserable about the prospect.

Tristian was hoping as he was publicly only Saladin Slytherin Great Nephew he could elect not to be apart of the festivities, however Salazar had been appalled by the very notion and demanded that he apologise to his grandfather. Saladin and not made the act of apologising easy.

With the inevitable festivities Tristian was caught with having to find gifts to give to appropriate family members. He couldn't leave the castle and he didn't have any money to purchase gifts. Ulrich had tersely suggested that he make something with his two hands but Tristian was absolutely lost. It also meant he had to find gifts for his not so beloved brothers.

"Isn't it bad enough you're stealing our inheritance but must you overrun the castle as well?"

Silas had silently made his way up the tower stairs and had approached without Tristian knowing. Tristian sighed and turned around.

"I'll leave and take my brooding elsewhere," Tristian said heavily. He was not in a mood to start a fight with his brother.

"Going somewhere?"

Axcel was now standing on top of the stairs glaring at Tristian.

"Whatever you have to say to me say it now," Tristian said through gritted teeth.

"My, we are in a companionable mood," Axcel snorted. "I thought because you were quite happy to intrude on _my_ hunt with _my _friends you wouldn't mind chatting with me."

"And end up stunned, tied down mercilessly while a rabid werewolf tries to have me for dinner," Tristian snarled viciously. "I was probably better off as Malic's dinner."

Guilt flashed through Axcel expression fleetingly, but Tristian was already heading for the stairs and did not see. Axcel glanced back at Silas who rolled his eyes and nodded sharply indicating that Tristian's story was indeed true.

"Don't say that," Axcel said quietly.

Tristian stopped. "Don't say what?"

"That you were better off as Malic's dinner."

Tristian shook his head sadly. "What do I have to live for, hm? You tell me."

Silas raised his eyebrows. "Now look who is being melodramatic."

"Look I'm sorry that both of you are angry at my existence. Trust me at times I wish I never had been born. I'm a curse to any that love me. Merlin! I've just lost my godfather, my last chance for a real family and now I will never know. I've lost everything and everyone by just by being summoned here. I'm sorry you feel I'm intruding and stealing your fathers. You're welcome to them. I don't want your fathers. I don't want a father. I just want to go home. I want my old life back!"

With one last furious look at his dumbfounded brother Tristian whipped around and despite the dampness of the stairs ran back to the safety of his chambers.

"He's definitely more Gryffindor than Slytherin," Silas muttered with a weak smile. "Bit uptight wasn't he?"

"But he looks like _your _twin brother," Axcel shot back.

"Younger twin brother," Silas retaliated quickly. "I'm the eldest."

'

'

'

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: 10th December 1060: 7:20pm **

Turkey was a favourite at the Gryffindor table. Wherever Axcel was sitting with his companions a large roast turkey was sure to be nearby.

Tristian's second prank was easily set up. Sidonius was bored with sleeping in Tristian's bed chamber all day while Tristian was at lessons with his grandfather. So the harmless green snake had readily volunteered himself for the next prank.

Tristian smiled broadly and covered it by bowing his head over his bowl of unidentifiable medieval soup. He was painfully aware that his grandfather was stealing curious glances at him. Tristian was no fool he knew his grandfather was suspecting something.

Tristian turned away from Saladin to put his mind at ease and turned to talk to Rowena Ravenclaw who was sitting on his other sides.

"Are there any spells that can manipulate time, milady?" Tristian asked schooling his face to look innocent.

Rowena look immensely pleased that Tristian was asking her questions. "There are minor spells to stop time and those that…"

"Tristian." Saladin voice stopped Rowena's answer a firm hand squeezed Tristian's shoulder and he shudder involuntarily. Tristian was painfully aware most of the head table had stopped to watch this exchange.

"Tristian," Saladin continued in his low soothing voice. "There is no going back. What is done is done. A Slytherin leaves the past behind him and concentrates on what is in front of him."

Tristian was vaguely aware of the hitch in his breath. He had coped with his stay by keeping his new reality at bay, pretending that when he woke up he would at his Hogwarts or maybe at the Burrow with the Weasleys. He never considered that he would be stuck in medieval England with the four founders, two of which were his parents.

"I'm sorry milord if I had known…"

"'Tis alright Rowena my dear, you weren't to know."

Trsitian looked up through his misting eyes in time to witness Sidonius' grand entrance. Their was a rather loud shriek and a clatter of utensils. Through the blur in his eyes Tristian saw at least half a dozen Gryffindors jump from their places with a shout of surprise.

"The turkey is possessed!"

Tristian bit down on his lip and let out a nervous but sad giggle. Suddenly everything didn't seem to be funny anymore.

"Excuse me," Tristian muttered miserably as he fumbled to his feet and fled the Great Hall.

Saladin watched in detached fashion as Tristian wobbled and then fled. He glanced quickly to Godric and Salazar who were waiting his instructions and then back to the Gryffindor table.

"For goodness sake Godric sort out your rowdy cubs!" Saladin snapped. "No, Salazar leave the boy. He needs time to sort himself out."

Godric was out of his seat in an instant. Salazar returned to his seat and nodded politely to Helga and Rowena, who were blinking dazedly in the wake of Tristian abrupt departure.

"The Wolfe clan had been brutally exterminated. The boy is an only survivor," Salazar offered in explanation.

"Poor dear," Helga murmured her eyes sliding to the door that was now firmly shut behind Tristian.

Meanwhile Godric was fighting a loosing battle in keeping his excitable Gryffindors back into their seats and eating the meal in a civilised manner. The Ravenclaws by this time had lost patience of craning their necks to see what the Gryffindors were fussing over. Half a dozen had even pulled their noses out of their books long enough to get out of their seats.

"SNAKE!" Axcel cried grabbing a knife of his neighbour as Sidonius' diamond head slithered out of the turkey's stuffing hole. A few of the faint hearted Gryffindors jumped from their seats, one surprised witched backed away so quickly that she nearly took Godric down as he was trying to quieten the table.

Axcel brought down the knife narrowly missing Sidonius.

"_Missed!"_ Sidonius laughed mockingly before disappearing once more into the warm turkey.

But Axcel was waiting for the return of the snake. Sidonius slithered out hissing menacingly. The knife was brought down once more.

"_Too slow." _

Two other Gryffindors took up Axcel's idea of impaling the snakes on their knives.

"_Pathetic aim!"_ Sidonius chortled as three knives missed him. _"Stupid humans."_

'

'

'

Saladin's eyes narrowed as half a dozen Gryffindors backed away from the 'possessed' turkey, all babbling the same thing: snake. As a rule the house elves never cooked live animals in any of the dishes served: despite muggle hearsay.

Without glancing at Salazar who also was intrigued by the scaly intruder, Saladin stood regally and strode purposefully to the Gryffindor table. The Gryffindors ignored the elder Slytherin and continued to harass a giggling Sidonius.

"Milord?" Godric was blinking slowly at the snake. "How would a…a…"

Saladin turned to Godric and sighed. "I have a few ideas," the elder muttered darkly stepping in between two knife wielding Gryffindors. A gentle hand gesture and the Gryffindors became instantly still.

Sidonius who had not noticed Saladin up til now, pushed his head from under the 'parson's nose', taunting the humans in his tongue.

"_Snake come out,"_ Saladin demanded.

Sidonius lifted his pointed head and flicked his tongue, he would have waggled his eyebrows but as a snake he didn't have any. _"Disappointing, and we were all having such fun."_

"_And ruining our apatite at the same time."_

Sidonius flicked his tongue once more, slithering is green body further out hissing in glee as the neighbouring Gryffindors recoiled in disgust. Saladin ignored Sidonius' inane laughter and offered his wrist to the small green snake. Sidonius obediently complied and wrapped himself around Saladin's outstretched wrist.

"Oh for goodness sake he's perfectly harmless," Saladin snapped at the crowd of pale and quivering Gryffindors.

"Nonsense!" Axcel cried. "He tried to bite me!"

"_That's right human. I'm the deadliest snake on this planet. One bite from me would have you writhing in agony for all eternity!" _Sidonius flicked out his tongue at Axcel threatening and extending his long body.

"See he wants to eat me!" Axcel exclaimed.

Saladin rolled his eyes. "He was only tasting the air."

"_Liar,"_ Sidonius huffed in a sulk. _"Ruin all my fun." _

"_Please would just shut up for a moment. You're giving me a dreadful migraine."_

"_You're welcome."_

'

'

'

Tristian lay face down on his bed biting his pillow angrily. It just wasn't fair. Not only was he the illegitimate son of two of the Hogwarts founders, but he had been ripped away from the only home he had known and had been thrust into a situation where he was terribly lonely. Not that he would want Axcel and Silas to be pleasant to him.

The Hogwarts he had known seemed like a distant dream and there was no waking from this nightmare.

The door softly clicking open was Tristian's only warning of an intrusion. He sat up abruptly and set his face to a stony expression.

"Tristian."

Tristian spun around suddenly at the sound of the voice he had not expected Salazar Slytherin to be the one interrupting his sulking session. For a moment the two stared at each other before Salazar sighed and took a seat by the cold hearth. He waved his hand over the cold logs that had been set in the fireplace and a moment later a fire was merrily crackling away.

"Tristian come here and let us talk."

For the briefest moment Tristian felt rebellious. He didn't want to talk to his father. But the tone Salazar had used left no room for argument. He sighed and glumly stood and slumped into the chair Salazar had summoned.

"I know I have not taken the opportunity to speak with you without chastising you, Tristian. But I am not the cruel man you believe within yourself."

Tristian immediately opened his mouth to protest but Salazar's hand stopped him.

"Hush lad and let me say my piece. You feel the uncertainty around you, you're afraid but your Gryffindor stubbornness won't let you admit that. You feel rejected and unwanted. But Tristian you are apart of this family and I will protect you as I would protect Silas. You don't need to fear me I will never upon my word deliberately or maliciously harm you."

Tristian sighed and looked away.

"Do you not wish to inquire what Erebus Prior had to say?"

Tristian's eyes shot up. In the flurry of meeting his fathers and the shook of meeting his creator he had forgotten that Godric was determined to have Erebus to confess to something else.

Tristian licked his lips nervously. "I would be lying if I said I was not curious, sir."

Salazar smiled thinly. "Godric and myself had been told prior to attempting the summoning of the vial, whence you came, that said vial had been stolen. Erebus had lied to us on this account – he had hidden it."

Tristian felt a trill of fear creeping into his guts. He heart beat painfully slow in his chest. What if…?

Salazar seemed to understand Tristian's worry. In a surprising gesture he lent forward and took Tristian's now cold trembling hands in his own.

"Tristian the vial is now protected by the power of both clans. Although Godric and myself are deeply offended that we had been used as donors, we will not: we cannot harm one of our own. Godric didn't want you to be told…"

"Typical," Tristian muttered shaking his head.

"Godric only wants what is best for you," Salazar chided gently. "He fears if known this knowledge could be used to harm you."

"Then why…"

"Why am I telling you?"

Tristian nodded.

"Knowledge is power, Tristian and I believe you have a right to know."

Tristian sighed wistfully and Salazar uncoiled his hand from around Tristian's fingers. "Do you know what else I believe?"

Tristian glanced up from his lap and his gaze was immediately captured by Salazar. "I believe you were meant to be born. I believe you were meant to me here, my son. I believe you have a great destiny ahead of you and I know whatever you do will echo throughout wizard kind long, long after you have passed from the world of mortals."

Tristian smiled sadly and Salazar returned the favour.

"I believe, however, you lost something of yours."

Tristian's smile faded when his grandfather stepped into the room carry an indigent Sidonius.

"_This is an outrage I don't belong to him. Squishy belongs to me!"_

Tristian could only hang his head. His evening had officially worsened.

Saladin strode into the room holding out Sidonius who was quite calm with the exception of his loud protests. Tristian had the distinct impression he was the one getting the sudden migraine.

Salazar was staring at the snake and back to his father. "That is not mine."

Saladin smiled wanly and draped Sidonius over Tristian's shoulders. "No he belongs to Tristian."

"_What did I tell you about the 'b' word? I'm a dangerous creature mister and I won't hesitate to bite." _

"He's a.. a... ?"

"Yes a parselmouth according to Ulrich."

Tristian's cheeks reddened. Ulrich had promised that he would not tell anyone about his abnormal ability to speak to snakes.

Salazar stood abruptly and forced Tristian to stand using his shoulders as leverage. Tristian was shocked when Salazar pecked both his cheeks affectionately and held him at arms length.

"Ah. There's the Slytherin power at last!"

Tristian blinked slowly. He had expected that Salazar would have been indifferent to his ability not gleeful and boastful.

"Ha! Wait til Godric hears this snippet of news."

Tristian stood stock still blinking stupidly.

"'Tis was an irresponsible prank you pulled young man. Amusing but irresponsible." Saladin's gentle but firm hands pulled Tristian back into the chair. "Poor Mr. Green Snake nearly lost his head in the Gryffindor's enthusiasm to slay the dreaded creature."

Harry snorted through his nose making a mental picture of Axcel and company making wild jabs at Sidonius with their knives. Trust the Gryffindors to make meal time such an adventure.

"Are you angry, milord?" Tristian ventured after a short period of silence.

Saladin moved to the side, his robes rustling by his feet as he moved. "Perhaps a little. More frustrated, my lad."

Tristian nodded his head sadly and turned away from both father and grandfather whose eyes were watching with careful scrutiny.

"While your pranks on your brothers were not as malicious in intent and less severe in nature, you can not win favour in their eyes if you continue to humiliate them. This family, and the Gryffindor family will not be able to stand divided."

"You want me to befriend them?" Tristian asked flustered. "You heard how well my first meeting went, Milord."

Saladin sighed and exchanged looks with Salazar who looked strangely impassive as if he were made of stone.

"I'm asking you not to exasperate the issue. If this continues I will have no choice…"

Saladin was interrupted by Tristian. "But to kick me out?" Tristian counted challengingly.

"Peace child," Salazar chided. "Slytherins look after their own."

"But I will force my hand on the issue if I must," Saladin declared sternly. "And trust me Tristian for neither party does that bode well."

"Oh." Tristian murmured feeling suddenly stupid for his outburst. "I understand and I shall not retaliate with any more pranks."

"Very good," Saladin nodded his farewell leaving Tristian alone with Salazar. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Milord," Tristian murmured.

"To bed with ye," Salazar muttered nodding his head towards the bed. "You look tired."

Tristian glanced towards the bed then back at the retreating form of Salazar. "Goodnight."

Tristian fancied he could hear Salazar reply before the large door shut firmly behind him.

"_No more pranks?"_ Sidonius flicked his tongue into Tristian's ear.

Tristian winced, the little green snake sounded thoroughly put out. _"No I guess not."_

"_Disappointing…But you should have seen those frightened faces when I poked my head out. Thought the turkey was possessed…"_


	14. Dangerous Retribution

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**A/N: Harry is beginning to think of himself as 'Tristian' so I'll be using that name more often to make it less confusing. **

**Chapter Fourteen. Dangerous Retribution**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 14th December 1060 AD: 11:23am **

Tristian thumbed the marker that Godric had left in his mother's journal. It had become apparent that Godric had been waiting for a sign that Tristian had read more from his mother's personal book. However, Tristian was not sure if he possessed the will power and courage to look.

Even now, while he was lunging on his belly on his bed with Sidonius hissing nearby, his mother's first entry still haunted him. It was tempting to keep the journal closed and locked away; never to be read. Somehow not knowing Lily seemed better than reading her words.

"_Godric is not going to let up until you give him an indication that you have looked through that book,"_ Sidonius said looking up from his curled position in annoyance. _"And the sooner I can get to sleep."_

Tristian sighed and flipped the book open with a thud earning himself a glare and a flickered tongue from Sidonius.

'_Harry has learned another phrase today. I'm sure it is James' doing. Now my son describes everything as 'yicky pooey': from this morning's porridge to Sirius' new outlandish shirt to his frequent and regular deposits in his nappy. _

_My little man has also spent his morning wooing a very stern Minerva McGonagall, who despite the recent turn of the war, was in danger of smiling behind her cup of tea. Harry wasn't impressed that our dearly beloved Head of Gryffindor house would not play 'snitch' with him. He however forgot a moment later when Remus, affectionately known as 'Moo-moo', turned up (this did put a smile on Minerva's face)._

_And this evening James' learned that it was one unwise to rough up a baby before bed time and two it is dangerous to let Harry anywhere near his hair when excitable. I enclosed a photo – too good of an opportunity to miss._

_How I love my men!_

_Lily Potter.'_

Tristian laughed and let his eyes linger over his mother's handwriting for a little longer. He hadn't noticed a piece of paper over with a caption of: 'Harry and James bonding. Serves James right,' in his mother's script.

Slowly Tristian flipped the photo over and couldn't help but laugh. James was kneeling down at Harry's level, his full head of messy hair an easy target for the baby. The baby had two fists full of hair and was yanking mercilessly while his face became redder and redder by the moment. James' big hands cover the baby's obviously trying to pry him off – but baby Harry was determined not to let go. Tristian wiped away the tears of laughter: James was clearly it a little bit of pain but seemed too proud to show it as he grimaced at the camera.

Tristian took the photo and placed it standing by his one remaining candle holder he had destroyed while practicing controlling his magic.

It was another free day, and like Tristian Silas and Axcel had seemed subdued to how they treated their alienated brother.

"I'm going for a walk," Tristian murmured grabbing a warm cloak before heading to the door. Sidonius didn't even open a sleepy eye in response. Tristian shrugged and closed his door firmly behind him.

Even though it was a free-day the corridors of the castle were relatively empty. Some students had already started to leave to spend the Winter Solstice with family. Tristian wandered down the front stairs and lingered by the entrance and looked over the courtyard.

It was bitterly cold even where Tristian was standing. But still it was tempting to leave the stone walls even for a little while. The grounds themselves were shrouded in mist and snow; it had snowed again the previous night.

Tristian stepped into the snow encrusted courtyard and trudge a path towards the end. It was the coldest winter Tristian could recall from his experiences at Hogwarts. Cold, windy, but very beautiful all the same.

Trsitian figured that because no one else would be crazy enough to go walking, that he was quite safe from being discovered. He slipped through the archway and straight away made a bee – line for the lake.

Some may have found it depressing how still everything seemed. However, Tristian was content to sit by the lake and day dream. Tristian didn't know for how long he had been sitting in the one place but he had found he had closed his eyes and dozed. While he had drifted off it had started snowing again and a mist had enveloped him.

"Great," Tristian muttered. "I suppose I should get back then."

Tristian stood and shook the snow from his long robes and dusted the top of his head. He hadn't taken two steps back to the castle when he heard something drifting on the wind. He froze in place and listened again. It sounded strangely like a voice.

"Hello?" Tristian called feeling stupid. "Anyone there?"

"Help me," came echoing reply. "Help me."

"Where are you?" Tristian replied feeling decidedly uneasy.

"Here!"

"Where?" Tristian cried turning in a three sixty, he couldn't see any evidence of anyone nearby. "I can't see you!"

"I am here."

"Where?" Tristian took a few steps to where he thought the voice had originated from.

"Here… I'm right here." The voice suddenly seemed in a different direction. For a brief moment Tristian followed the sound.

Intuition told Tristian something was not right, instead of his surroundings becoming easier to see Tristian found that the fog around him seemed to have thickened until he couldn't see his own hand in front of his face.

It was the choked laughter however that called the bluff. "Axcel? Silas?" Tristian ventured. "Okay, you got me…"

A shrill shriek to Tristian's left interrupted his spiel, for a moment there was silence then… "Axcel?" It was Silas' voice, Tristian was certain, he froze before moving towards the sound of voices.

"Axcel… Silas… this isn't fun…" Tristian's voice caught in his throat. Something was behind him and this something was breathing rather heavily down his neck. Goose bump rose on Tristian's back as he stumbled forward. _"Silas?"_

This time Silas replied. "Trist, get out of here. Axcel is sure we aren't alone."

"Look what I have here," a voice whispered by Tristian's ear. "Three Hogwarts students… important students to be exact."

Every millilitre of Tristian's blood froze. The voice was horrifyingly similar to what he had heard before, he recognised it instantly. His breath caught in his throat as he spun on his heals but he was wretched around by a strong hand.

Another hand clamped down on Tristian's mouth to prevent him from screaming. However an arm snaked around his middle did not stop him from stamping on his assailant's foot. Tristian's effort earned him an annoyed growl and angry fingers clawing his cold belly.

"Tristian?"

"Tristian are you okay?"

It became clear to Tristian that neither of his brother's knew who or for that matter what was in the fog with them. He screamed into his attacker's hand only to find his voice effectively muffled. That was when he remembered something he had done once before to Dudley and his goons when they had tried to suffocate him with their hands back in primary school.

Fortunately for Tristian he did have a bit of a sniffle. He took the deepest breath he could under the horrid circumstances and blew his nose over the hand clamped over his mouth. As predicted the assailant automatically drew back in disgust at the snot and momentarily realised Tristian.

"Malic. Run. Get. Help!" Tristian managed to gasp darting to the side only to find Malic had recovered from his snot inflicted hand quicker than he had anticipated. The werewolf grabbed him again and hurled Tristian to his feet.

Instead of restraining Tristian in much the same fashion as last time, Malic used his arms around Tristian's middle and pulled him tightly to his chest. "Let go…" Tristian protested loudly, screaming louder than the situation warranted hoping to gain some attention from the castle.

For all his efforts Tristian was dragged backwards in Malic's vice like grip. The werewolf was taking not chances this time. His grip became tighter and tighter until Tristian was sure that his eye balls would fall from their sockets.

Gasping for breath, Tristian was vaguely aware of one of his brother's firing curses at them and the fog slowly starting to thin. At one point Tristian slipped from Malic only to be wretched back to his feet roughly. That was when he realised that Malic had blindly led them onto the icy surface of the lake.

Grimacing from pain Tristian decided to throw all caution to the wind. Malic was dragging him further away from the aid of his remaining brother and further towards the apparition wards. Tristian knew that once Malic had him beyond the wards he would be dead in all sense of the word. His escape if it was ever to come had to be done quickly.

Without thinking of the consequences of his action Tristian struggled to get a hold of Malic with his hands before pulsing out as much heat energy as he could between them. It was with a sense of satisfaction that Malic howled in pain and let Tristian slide from his grip. It was rather sickening however for Tristian to realise that it was burning flesh that had his senses ensnared.

Knowing that Malic would not be long in attacking him again, Tristian pushed himself away from the maddened werewolf.

Fortunately for Tristian, Malic was now concerned with the melting ice. Once more Tristian had used too much magical energy to meet his ends. A loud crack rent the air in two, both werewolf and boy realised the danger.

Malic wisely took the opportunity to make his escape, but Tristian still very warm from performing his spell from skin to skin was not so fortunate.

Another crack split the air and before Tristian could effectively stand the ice beneath him gave away. He gave a shout as he fell backwards smacking his head against the melting ice and falling stunned into the freezing water.

The water hit Tristian like a thousand miniature steel nails driving into his vulnerable flesh. His hearing was deadened; his sight blackened and body slack. Some part of his mind was aware he was drowning and his body was not fighting. His mouth made feeble movements like a fish gasping for air. The cold set in, his bones and muscles seemed to have collapsed, his mind slipped before he shook himself with renewed energy.

Tristian opened his eyes and looked around at the murky depths that could very well be his grave. With an almighty effort he lifted his hand to touch the ice above his head but his fingers found nothing. He glanced underneath him and that too looked like the surface.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head. He was trapped in his cold watery prison.

'

'

'

Godric and Salazar were arguing over their students' performances, which was customary for a free day morning, when Silas hurtled into the room with a whirlwind of energy. Godric glanced up in concern as Silas stared at both of the founders wide eyed. It was unusual to see Salazar's well cultured son anything less of cool, calm and collected.

"Silas," Salazar acknowledged dryly, not even looking in his son's direction.

Godric watched as Silas mentally pulled himself together. "Malic, on the grounds… has Tristian."

Salazar's head shot up his stern eyes appraising his son before merely nodding. "Stay," the snake founder commanded before dashing out of the room himself.

After a moment of dreadful anticipation, Godric rushed after his friend and hurtled outside towards the lake.

The first thing Godric notice was Axcel standing on the frozen lake his wand outstretched before him. Godric watched in disbelief as Axcel fell onto his knees, his bare hands skimming the cold ice in desperation. Axcel seemed unaware of his audience; he was kneeling over a great crack in the ice murmuring to himself in shock.

"Axcel what do you think you are doing?" Godric demanded harshly, wrenching his son from the ice and onto his feet.

"Tristian…" Axcel's eyes slid towards the gapping hole in the ice. "… he fell."

Godric's stomach plummeted when he realised what Axcel was telling him. Shrugging off his robe he thrust it at Salazar who was busy reprimanding Silas for following them to the lake despite what he had been told.

"Godric…"

Godric heard no more as he dived willingly into the frozen lake. He forced his eyes to open against the murky iciness and propelled his strong body forward. He knew he didn't have much time to find Tristian and bring him to the surface before it was too late. He also knew that he didn't have much time before he himself had to return to the surface, nor could he loose sight of where he had entered the water.

Forcing his eyes to become used to the frozen underworld Godric regarded his surrounding critically. This part of the lake was deep and if Tristian was not near the surface… then…

Godric shook his head and dived further down resisting the natural urge to bellow Tristian's name. He dived until he thought his lungs would burst and that's when he saw him.

Tristian floated slowly downwards his head lolled backwards and his long inky black hair swayed around him like a haunting halo. His skin seemed translucent in the water and it didn't look like he was breathing.

Godric powered towards his potion born son it seemed like an eternity before his arms wrapped around Tristian's middle hugging him like a favourite yet limp rag doll. With one arm free Godric pushed himself and his unconscious son to the top of the lake. There was no time for him to look for the crack that Tristian had fallen through to make their escape.

Reaching the top of the lake Godric reached palm up to touch the slippery underside of the ice. He then fumbled through his pocket and found his wand. Gasping a simple yet effective blasting spell Godric made a large gapping mouth in the ice. With all his strength Godric pushed Tristian to the surface.

Salazar was already rushing to the man made escape hole, his hands outstretched to pull his son and friend from the water. Godric shook his head when Salazar offered him help. "Tristian…" Godric gasped.

Salazar, lips pursed half dragged the boy from the water. He whipped off his own long fur lined coat and bundled it around the still form of Tristian. He ran his long fingers against the chiselled cold of the boy's cheeks and down into the long lengths of mattered black hair that pooled out onto the ice.

Salazar tilted his ear to rest over Tristian's heart; it was beating sluggishly fluttering like the wings of a dying butterfly. Godric crashed to his knees beside him. "He's alive… barely."

Godric exhaled the breath he was not aware that he had been holding. Salazar grimaced and rested his shaking palms over Tristian's chest. He had seen breath being breathed into a dying girl only once before. He pinched the bridge of Tristian's nose and opened his mouth with a finger to check his airways.

Not at all sure that he was following the correct way to breathe life back into Tristian's lungs, Salazar leaned over and breathed heavily into Tristian's agape mouth. He vaguely remembered Helga, against the victim's chest with the heels of her palms. He continued to work automatically aware that he had an audience of two boys and Godric watching his every move.

Despite Salazar's concerns he wasn't reviving Tristian in the correct manner, he must have done something right. After a couple of terrifying minutes Tristian's body heaved and he gagged. Salazar rolled Tristian to his side as the boy's eyes fluttered open weakly. Tristian gagged again on the water that had made it up from his chest and shivered violently where he lay vulnerable on the ice.

"Thank sweet Merlin," Godric murmured taking Tristian's face in his hands. Tristian shakily glanced up at both his fathers who were gazing at him with great concern.

"Merlin," Axcel whispered to Silas. "We almost killed out own brother."

"We couldn't have predicted that Malic would be here," Silas comforted. "He's not suppose to be able to get through the wards Grandfather set up."

"He nearly died!" Axcel cried anxiously glancing worried to his father who despite his drenched state was kneeling on the ice.

"Emphasis on the nearly," Silas returned firmly handing Godric his cloak, which he had been thrust into his hands by Salazar when the snake founder realised what Godric was up to. "Gryffindors never die when they're supposed to."

Upon hearing his brother's conversation, Tristian choked back a laugh and ended up bringing up more water from his lungs. Godric wrapped his cloak around his broad shoulders and stood looking down on Tristian longingly.

"He's your blood kin," Godric murmured. "You'd better carry him back to the castle."

"You're wet anyway," Salazar returned dryly, picking Tristian up into his arms. He cast a mild warming charm over the boy and clicked his tongue when Tristian weakly protested.

The return back to the castle was a sombre affair. Salazar walked briskly to Tristian's chambers only briefly stopping to ask one of his own students to seek out Lord Slytherin.

He reached Tristian's chamber and kicked open the door impatiently, scaring Ulrich who happened to be looking for Tristian. The healer and personal servant meet the eyes of his master's son and glanced down at Tristian. A moment later however the healer instincts took over, Ulrich bustled forward and motioned Salazar to place Tristian on his bed.

Tristian's eyes blurrily opened as he heard a ripping sound. "Need to get you out of these wet clothes," Ulrich told him curtly. "You should change also milord…" Tristian turned his head to see where Godric was standing on the edge of the room.

"Godric, I think it hardly appropriate that you would concern yourself so much with my kinsman. Thanks are in order for saving his life but…"

"… but I am no longer required," Godric bristled.

"If you are seen…" Salazar let the threat linger on the air.

"Then I won't be," Godric stubbornly snapped stepping into the room and starting a roaring fire with a wave of his hand. "He might look like you he might be pretending to be a Slytherin. But he is just as much as mine as he is yours."

Salazar conceded the point and turned back to help Ulrich strip Tristian of his drenched and cold clothes.

"He has your nose, milord Gryffindor," Silas said from the doorway, where he was standing huddled with his partner in crime. Axcel shifted uneasily and snorted.

Godric glanced over to Tristian and shrugged. "So he has and such a handsome nose at that," he commented pulling out extra clothing for Ulrich to dress Tristian in.

Salazar took them from him with a grimace. "Find yourself a spare blanket, for Merlin's sake."

Silas was already pulling out a blanket for Godric, who took it with a nod of thanks.

Finally warming up and feeling safe. Tristian drifted off back into the black blanket of unconsciousness.


	15. Interlude

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Fifteen. Interlude **

**(I chopped chapter fourteen up because it was becoming a very long chapter and I thought you would appreciated that I posted something sooner rather than later. Sorry there is a lot of dialogue – this is written in a lighter mood before I turn around and torture my characters again!)**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 15th December 1060 AD: 09:13am**

Tristian yawned widely and blinked his blurry eyes before burrowing down further into his blankets.

"Good morning, sleepy."

Tristian murmured something unflattering and dug further into his pillows.

"I bought you something to eat," the intruder offered. "You haven't had anything since yesterday."

Tristian lazily opened one eye at the mention of food. He was in fact ravenously hungry.

"Mmm… warm fresh bread from the oven much better than what Ulrich is bound to feed you…"

"Okay, okay, okay," Tristian huffed sitting up in bed. "I'm up."

"Glad to hear it," Silas murmured dumping a tray of food on Tristian lap.

For a moment they just stared at each other, like to maddened bulls ready to charge.

"The way to a Gryffindor's heart: food," Silas snorted as Tristian turned to eye the food wearily. "Feeling better?" Silas offered weakly.

Tristian closed his eyes and vaguely remembered going for a walk yesterday. He blinked at his massive headache, which he realised was a surprise. Ripping a hunk off the warm loaf of bread, Tristian dunked in unceremoniously into the broth Silas had also brought him.

"I suppose," Tristian muttered stuffing the whole hunk of bread in his mouth. He blinked at Silas again wondering what his Slytherin brother was doing in his room. As far as he knew Silas didn't know where his room was. "Got a headache," Tristian finished lamely.

"Ulrich suspects concussion from where you hit your head on the ice. He said you must have gone down good and hard," Silas explained. "So no surprise you've a headache."

Tristian blinked once more slowly. "I fell…?"

Silas nodded wearily. "Eat up."

Tristian raised his eyebrows. "So this is why you're being civil to me?"

"Is it working?" Silas queried sitting on the edge of his bed. "You nearly died," he added as if it explained everything.

"Oh… I did?"

Silas winced. "Lord Godric jumped through the ice in the lake to get you out. Axcel couldn't tell us how long you had been under. You weren't breathing when Father pulled you out and he had to breathe air into your lungs… You were so pale and still… even when you come around."

"Oh?"

"See, we Gryffindors aren't very articulate early in the morning." Axcel sauntered into the room with a very familiar looking hat.

"Morning Axcel," Silas said with a cheer that sounded false. "Just explaining to dear Tristian what happened yesterday."

Axcel paled before gushing in a truly Gryffindor heartfelt manner, "I thought you were dead you looked like a spectre. Father only just left your side an hour ago."

"Oh?" For the life of him, Tristian could not think of an intelligent reply to make to this claim.

Axcel ungracefully sat on the opposite edge of the bed to Silas, squishing Tristian between his two brothers. "Peace offering?" Axcel inquired holding up the familiar hat.

"The Sorting Hat?" Tristian raised an elegant eyebrow.

"You know of it?" Axcel looked accusingly to Silas who stared back as if to say he had not said anything.

"I'm from the future," Tristian laughed ripping off another hunk of bread. "Even in a thousand years the Sorting Hat is famous for its singing at the Sorting."

"It_ sings_?" Axcel asked incredulous blinking stupidly at the hat before turning to Tristian imploringly. "I thought, even though you're not a Hogwarts student per se you would still like to try it on… we just wanted you to know…"

"… were egotistical, pompous raving lunatics," Silas said with a straight face.

"You maybe," Axcel returned hotly before turning back to Tristian with an expression of pure serenity. "What we are trying to say is: sorry."

"_Sorry?"_ Sidonius decided to make his presence known. _"How can you just say you are sorry after all the stress and tears and plotting we've been through. You made my poor Squishy miserable."_

Axcel's reaction was comical. Remembering the snake from the turkey incident, the young Gryffindor gave a shout and promptly fell of the edge of the bed. Tristian and Silas glanced at each other and burst into gales of laughter.

"Slytherin bastards," Axcel muttered picking himself off the floor.

"_Sid, please we're trying to apologise to each other."_

Sidonius shook his triangular head sadly. _"Stupid humans." _

It was Axcel's turn to eye Tristian suspiciously. "What did he say?" Axcel asked slowly.

"He's pleased to meet you," Tristian gabbled without thinking and grinning widely.

"_Liar,"_ hissed Silas amused. _"I speak too. And what is this about a Squishy."_

"_Long story besides Axcel is staring at us as if we have both grown two heads."_

"_Exactly. How long before his eye pop out of his sockets do you think?" _

"_Hmm… he needs another shock or two."_

"Stupid Slytherins," Axcel commented as both Silas and Tristian turned to him beaming.

"Well, let's end this debate shall we," Silas said successfully leaning over Tristian and his food tray to grab the Sorting Hat and dumping it over Tristian's head. He had obviously grown a little since the last time he had the Sorting Hat on his head; this time he wasn't greeted with a curtain of darkness.

"_Well hello young sir,"_ said a familiar small voice by his ear.

"Hello?" Tristian replied fighting the inevitable blush when one felt very uncomfortable. Silas and Axcel exchanged grins.

"_Well I suppose I ought to sort you like your dear brothers want."_ Tristian could almost see the hat rolling its non existent eyes.

"Hmm," Tristian agreed noncommittally.

"_You've got courage, sure enough. You also have strength. Courage and strength are not the same trait you know, though many would think it. And what talent and what raw magical power. Oh you yearn to prove yourself to the world; yet want the world to leave you alone… Making any sense, lad?"_

"Hmm…" Tristian ventured refusing to meet Axcel's or Silas' eyes as both brothers were watching him intently as if he was a science experiment.

"_Don't know what you want do you?"_

"Er… no…"

"_Hmm… you are a tricky one. There's only one thing to do with you! GRYFFERIN SLYTHINDOR!"_

Three brothers exchanged bemused looks before bursting out into peels of laughter. Silas took the hat off Tristian's head. "I think you confused him," the Slytherin commented wearily. "He's never done that before."

"Father would faint if I told him there was something wrong with his precious hat," Axcel said standing and taking a stretch.

"You're father would murder you if he knew you took the hat without asking," Silas returned.

Axcel shrugged listlessly. He caught a slight movement in the corner of his eye. Going over to investigate he saw it was a small picture that was moving.

"This is not painted," Axcel commented.

"It's called a photograph," Tristian offered. "It's like a moving portrait."

Axcel picked it up and flipped it over. His brows furrowed as he read the caption. "Is this…?"

"My dad and me, yeah," Tristian said.

Axcel poked the picture and withdrew his hand quickly. Tristian rolled his eyes. "Surely you've seen wizard portraits before."

Axcel handed the photograph over to Silas who also gave it a poke. "You have no idea how strange this is to us," Silas muttered. "Did this really happen?"

Tristian nodded. "Muggles created cameras to take still pictures by using light or something like that. Wizards have developed away to make them move."

"Ingenious," Silas muttered giving the picture another poke.

"You're giving him a real good tug," Axcel grinned. "Feisty little thing."

"You got any more of these?" Silas asked hopefully.

"Not sure… I would like to go through my mother's book alone."

Silas smiled suggestively. "Anything from the future, please do share."

Tristian was about to reply when someone cleared their throat at the doorway. Three heads whipped around to see Lord Saladin Slytherin watching them in amusement from the doorway.

"As much as it pleases me that you are not ripping each other's throats out I believe Silas and Axcel have somewhere to go."

Tristian grinned goofily as his brother's eyes nearly popped out of their heads as if they suddenly remembered something before turning tale simultaneously and racing out of the room.

Saladin Slytherin's eyes never left Tristian's face as he crossed his arms about his chest and entered. In determination Tristian bowed his head so that he would not have to meet his grandfather's imperious gaze.

"Are you sure it was Malic who attacked you?"

Tristian's head shot upwards and his eyes were caught by the impassive gaze of Saladin. Whatever Tristian had expected to hear it was not this simple question. Even though he had gotten used to his grandfather's unexpected moods it worried Tristian. He thought he saw a flicker of worry behind his grandfather's steady gaze.

"Quite certain," Tristian mumbled. "I recognised his voice instantly," he added ruefully.

Saladin stepped further into the room smoothing down his greying goatee but was otherwise silent. Tristan idly thought what he would look like with a goatee…

"Why did Malic retreat and how and why did you fall through the frozen lake?"

Tristian felt his cheeks redden to the point where his skin felt like it was burning. He could just about die from embarrassment. Turning his head away Tristian swallowed heavily very much aware that if Saladin wanted an answer he will inevitably get one.

"Tristian?" Sure enough there was a slight tinge of warning in his grandfather's tone.

"I burned him, sir," Tristian supplied shamefaced, feeling suddenly very stupid indeed for his tactic and queasy at the mere thought of Malic's burning flesh. "I burned him until I cooked his flesh, he let go and escaped."

"I see," Saladin said in clipped tones. "And the ice melted under your feet, I suppose."

"It was stupid, I know sir," Tristian mumbled miserably. He hated the tone Saladin used when he was very displeased, it made him feel like a naughty little first year.

"Tristian, look at me."

Tristian turned his face away.

"Look at me when I am speaking to you boy!" Saladin didn't have to yell. Flinching at his grandfather's ire Tristian turned his chin upwards.

"You must think before you act, Tristian," Saladin told Tristian sharply. "Instincts are great when they don't get you almost killed."

"It was stupid I know," Tristian mumbled repeating himself. "I was scared he would slice my throat open if he couldn't get me past the wards."

"Yes," Saladin sighed in a strange strangled voice before seating himself beside Tristian on the bed and smiled sadly. "Very stupid and foolhardy like a particular father I will leave unnamed."

Tristain smiled sheepishly and played with the threads on his bed. "Even in a thousand years Godric Gryffindor foolishness is often referred too."

Saladin snorted back a laugh inelegantly and traced his fingers through Tristian's hair. Returning his face back to the stern but benevolent grandfather expression, Saladin sighed, "You've got your colour back – perhaps we should skip lessons for today. You should rest and catch up on some reading." Saladin's eyes rested on Lily's diary and then back to Tristian's face before he winked.

Tristian stared into his grandfather's face for a few moments perplexed before deciding that yes Saladin Slytherin had indeed winked at him.

"Thank you grandfather," Tristian gushed.

Saladin smiled and ran his hand gently over Tristian's pale porcelain cheek and down to grasp his chin. "Stay in bed and keep out of mischief. That shouldn't be too hard even for a Gryffindor like you. Your mentor can't handle it… and your grandfather most certainly cannot handle the thought of see you hurt again."

Tristian grinned awkwardly. "I don't plan going anywhere."

"Good," Saladin said with one last nod as he stood with a long suffering sigh as his bones creaked. He however stopped by the door. "Happy reading and I meant what I said about staying in bed."

Tristain nodded irratibly. "I know. I know. I'm not going anywhere."

Saladin raised his eyebrows in a mock gesture of warning.

"…Milord," Tristian humbly added.

"Better…" Saladin muttered and then he disappeared behind the door.

Tristian sighed, pulling his mother's book closer to himself and then he realised Axcel had left the Sorting Hat behind. Godric was going to murder them. But on the positive side at least he had some interesting conversation, without Sidonius' complaining, to entertain him while detained in bed.


	16. Winter Solistice Part One

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Sixteen. Winter Solstice – Part One**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 21st December 1060, 5:03am**

Tristian wake to the early hours of Winter Solstice and decided that he wasn't able to go back to sleep. He rolled out of bed and dropped lightly onto the floor. It may have been early morning, but a small slip of dreary winter light shone through the glass of his window. He was definitely not going back to sleep.

Tristian left Sidonius where he had claimed half the pillow last night and tip toed quietly across the freezing floor. He had learnt the hard way not to wake the snake too early in the morning the week before and didn't want a repeat of Sidonius' crude outburst.

Ulrich had pulled out the robes he was to wear for the festivities during the day. Tristian grimaced at the ironic green and red trimmed with gold. He was going to look like a Christmas decoration. Saladin would not hear any words of protest when Tristian had first seen the robes.

Pulling off his nightshirt, he was still becoming accustomed to wearing something that resembled a dress to bed, over his head. The robes would be warmer in the glacial castle even if they were red and green.

The dark crimson, long sleeved under robe was soft under Tristian's touch. Velvet he realised with a pang of guilt. It grandfather had arranged for robes made of real velvet, which were not cheep, and he had turned his nose up. Tristian touched the green over robe which was equally as soft and noted it was trimmed with real fur.

Tristian had just finished pulling on the outer robe and buttoning the multitudes of golden toggles when he spied himself in the mirror.

"Not as bad as what I thought," he muttered. "But I still look something like a Christmas bauble."

It was still too early to wander about the castle so Tristian grabbed his mother's journal and took a seat by the cold hearth. A carefree wave of his hand later and a fire was burning and crackling away. He had improved his abilities since his accident with Malic and the frozen lake.

Tristian opened the journal to a page he had marked to read especially today: his mother's records of his first Christmas.

"_James is such a dear. He bought me a new wizarding camera after Peter accidentally lost our last one: with a whole film of undeveloped baby photos. So understandably I've been a little click happy today. _

_Harry's first Christmas was a busy affair. Harry I think was unimpressed by the fuss of everyone around him. He was quite content to sleep in his self bouncing bouncer asleep until Sirius and Remus dropped by. _

_Poor Harry was the recipient of a gaudy green and red outfit from Sirius, which Sirius demanded that he wear for Christmas lunch. Harry was unusually grumpy as his overexcitable Godfather tried to dress him – not that I blame him, he looked like a chubby, angry elf. Not that it wasn't adorable. _

_Remus finished the outfit by sticking a large red ribbon on Harry's head, which ended up in tears. Poor Harry could not finger out what was on his head, he would crane his head this way and that trying to look but was unfortunately unable to figure it out. _

_The Marauders where in tears of laughter watching Harry twisting and turning about life a confused puppy… that was until Harry decided he was sick of being the butt of the joke and proceeded to scream and scratch his ears off prompting his gallant father to rescue him of the dreaded red bow. Let me tell you Harry's lung capacity is no laughing matter. _

_Harry slept through much of Christmas dinner – in a bowl of mash potato, much to Sirius glee. Honestly that man is cluckier than I am and he took photos on MY new camera than I have of baby Harry!"_

There was a red and green envelop hidden in the page. Tristian took it out slowly smiling to himself before lifting the now brittle seal with his finger. A pile of photos fell on his lap – just as he expected.

The first picture was of Sirius bobbing him up and down on his knee. Baby Harry wore a distinct chubby scowl on his face clearly unimpressed by the gaudy outfit. His mother was right. It was absolutely hideous! But photo Sirius seemed quite proud as he beamed up at the camera.

The second picture was of the Marauders James, Sirius and Remus, thankfully Peter was missing, laughing until tears steamed down their cheeks and their cheeks became flushed. "Idoits," Harry snorted grinning at the picture.

The third was of Lily and James in the kitchen Lily was trying to levitate a very large turkey while James was teasing her: hugging her from behind and planting kissing on the nape of her neck.

There were several other photos it looked like his mother had been right, Sirius had gone mad with the camera. Tristian was not sure what some of the photos were off. One was labelled 'Sirius has had too much egg nog' but was otherwise too blurry to make out any picture. Now and then the colours swirled and moved. Harry smirked and turned it around still the picture made no sense.

"Ah good morning young master."

Tristian jumped a mile as a voice called out to him startling him from his daydreaming. "Good morning to you to Ulrich," Tristian muttered darkly laying his hand over his heart. "But perhaps you should not scare me so early."

"Apologies, young sir."

In Tristian's opinion, Ulrich didn't seem sorry at all. "I look like a Christmas bauble," Tristian muttered darkly.

Ulrich looked Tristian up and down in his usual evaluative manner. "A handsome Christmas bauble if you ask me – well once you have brushed your hair, master."

Tristian groaned and carded his fingers in his long ebony tresses. Ulrich was indeed right the waves were mussed from sleep. "I forgot…" Tristian replied sheepishly standing and shaking out his long voluminous robes. Ulrich took the opportunity to throw a silver handled brush at him.

Tristian caught it deftly and applied it through his hair. Ulrich watched in a detached manner. Tristian had half trained Saladin's serving man to stay away from his hair.

"Bare feet?" Ulrich raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Tristian refrained from rolling his eyes. "I hadn't been planned to be ready before now."

Ulrich sniffed in good natured indignation and pulled out some soft black leather boots, which Tristian shoved onto his feet. "Doesn't change the castle from being cold on bare skin."

Tristian grinned wryly. "So what am I suppose to do now?"

"Breakfast with your Slytherin family; lunch time festivities will be in the Great Hall. Dinner with Lord Godric and Axcel, safe to assume that you will not be spied or raise any eyebrows."

Tristian twirled his fingers about in agitation. "Godric is jealous of Salazar isn't he?"

Ulrich stopped to stare wide eyed at Tristian who returned the steady gaze. "Definitely so," Ulrich admitted softly. "Godric is a possessive and fiercely protective wizard. To share is son with another is difficult for him, but to play a lesser part… it's not easy. Of course if you were seen to become closer friends with Axcel in public it would open doors to Godric that your animosity between the pair of you kept closed and locked."

Tristian sighed heavily. "Yeah, I know. We're getting on better. I haven't hid Sidonius in any more turkeys recently."

Ulrich huffed in mock seriousness and shook his head. "What has happened to the young men of today? Now off to your grandfather's rooms, of all days today you don't want to be late."

"Thanks," Tristian muttered before leaving the rooms his long robes swishing behind him.

Tristian met with Salazar and Silas at his grandfather's doors. Salazar stopped momentarily to appraise Tristian and nodded his head in approval. Silas was smirking at him and gave a nod of acknowledgement which Tristian returned. Instead of the plain apprentice work robes Tristian was used to seeing his brother wearing, Silas was donned in brilliant emerald green and silver in almost the same replica of his father's robes.

Without any exchange of words Salazar pushed open the heavy doors before announcing their arrival. Silas and Tristian followed three steps behind him.

"Ah Salazar, my son," Saladin came from an adjoining room his arms widespread in greeting. Tristian watched as Saladin greeted Salazar in a rare display of affection. The elder Slytherin's eyes wandered over to where Silas and Tristian stood shoulder to shoulder. "And my handsome grandsons… come breakfast is already served."

The younger Slytherins allowed themselves to be ushered through to Saladin's private sitting quarters and made themselves comfortable as Salazar and Saladin spoke in hushed voices at the door.

"Grandfather is worried," Silas said matter-of-factly taking a berry and popping it in his mouth. He turned his head slightly as if trying to decipher what his father and grandfather were speaking about.

"How so?" Tristian mumbled following Silas' example and selecting from the tray of lavish fruits in front of them.

"Grandfather is never affectionate towards Father in front of me or anyone else," Silas shrugged in an attempt to seem carefree, Tristian was not fooled. "I know he cares for Father but… something has him worried."

"Do you think it might be about Malic?" Tristian returned. "After … after… the lake he seemed a little worried about Malic."

"According to Nott and Jugson they were told by McCollow and Greengrass that they had overheard Grandfather telling Madam Ravenclaw that Malic had returned to Ireland for a little while. So I don't think it is Malic."

"Probably just rumours," Tristian mumbled flicking a glance to Saladin who was wrapping up the conversation. "Nothing is absolute truth until you heard it first hand."

Saladin and Salazar soon joined them by the table attempting to make the atmosphere light and merry. Their constant glances in each other's direction and knowingly looks however made the situation more intriguing for Silas and Tristian. Neither boy was silly enough to ask their elders what was the matter.

Breakfast was finished with relatively quickly and Salazar and Saladin had moved away to drink mulled mead by the fireplace.

Silas made a face in his elders' direction. "I don't know how they can drink that stuff to be honest."

Tristian agreed with a bored nod of his head before remembering the moving photographs he had found that morning. "Here I found some more photographs."

Silas perked up instantaneously. "Show me then."

Tristian laid each photo on the table. One by one Silas picked them up studied them and asked questions. "This is your other Father, who are these two?"

Tristian plucked the photo from Silas' hand and smiled fondly down on the Marauders. "My Godfather Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, he taught defence against the Dark Arts here in my third year, my father's good friends."

"And your mother?" Silas picked up a photo of Lily Potter, bobbing a grumpy baby Harry on her knees.

Tristian nodded whimsically.

"She has a beautiful smile," Silas commented before saying. "No wonder you hate green and red those baby robes are absolutely heinous!"

Tristian laughed. "Thankfully there is no bow with this outfit!"

"And this?"

Tristian froze. Silas was holding up a photo he had missed in the pile. A small blonde ratty man had a bawling Harry Potter on his lap and was waving. Tristian sucked in a breath as if he had been punched in the stomach.

Snatching the picture from Silas' hand, Tristian stood abruptly and marched over to the fire place, ripping up the photo as he went. Throwing the destroyed remains of the photograph into the fire Tristian found the three Slytherins all staring at him curiously.

"Trist?" Silas adventured.

"My parents' secret keeper, he sold us out to the Dark Lord. His responsible for my family's murder," Tristian supplied in a clipped tone. "I should have killed him when I had a chance."

Saladin opened his mouth to say something but the slamming of his private chamber door prevented him. He sent a withering glare at Silas and Tristian as if warning them to go nowhere. But before he made it to the door an opposing figure blocked his path.

"Good morning, Father," a deep voice drawled. It made Tristian's skin crawl. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Saladin seemed to consider for a moment before stepping to one side. "Warric," he said slowly and cautiously.

Tristian eyed the intruder uneasily noting the dark short hair and briskly black beard. The long hooked nose and high cheekbones. Proud dark eyes surveyed the room before landing on Tristian.

"Aren't you a little old to be siring bastards, Father?" Warric noted airily staring at Tristian, Tristian raised his chin and refused to be cowed.

"Or are you covering for Uncle Salazar's indiscretion, Grandfather?" A second young man followed the new comer, and raised his eyebrows haughtily at Trsitian. He was a few years older than Tristian and Silas. "Such a handsome pup, too."

Saladin's eyes flicked briefly to Tristian as if to tell him to be still and not to comment. Tristian needn't be told.

"Neither, Vladimir," Saladin returned coolly.

Warric scowled deeply at Saladin. "We have no relations in Wales, old man."

Tristian squirmed uncomfortably but refused to be baited.

"Or is this another ploy to rob me of my inheritance?" Warric continued.

"You robbed yourself Warric when you betrayed us to Malic," Salazar growled. "Tristian is no concern of yours."

"Missing your poor deceased wife, Salazar. Missing your beloved mother, nephew Silas?" Warric said shaking his head in mock sadness. "Larissa was such a good lay before I sliced her open. Did you know she was pregnant at the time?"

Salazar's face turned a brilliant brick colour. From the expressions on both Saladin's and Salazar's face they had not known. Tristian took a few steady steps to Silas who had gotten to his feet and looked like he was going to faint any moment. Even Vladimir was wearing a distinct look of repulsion on his face.

"You're a disgrace, Warric," Saladin said wearily. Tristian never felt sorrier for anyone in his life. A moment later however Saladin hardened his voice and raised his wand. "A curse upon you: woe to any that aid thee in escape from my wrath. Be gone and depart from these walls forevermore. May your house crumble and your seed die. May life and death bring you all torment and misery. You are no longer my son… go! I wish to never lay eyes upon you ever again in life or death. Depart: nameless and alone."

Warric looked like he would explode from his anger. He glanced hatefully in Tristian's direction as if it was all his fault. "Malic will have your lifeblood boy, count on it."

"GO!"

Tristian had seen various adults very angry in his lifetime. Neither Snape, nor Vernon or McGonagall could possibly match Saladin Slytherin. Tristian was absolutely certain the whole tower was shaking beneath his feet. He half expected Warric to be engulfed in walls of flame.

Unfortunately Warric was left whole and well as he turned abruptly from the room in an angry swish of robes. Vladimir stood frozen almost his dark eyes bulging from their sockets.

"My curse has not yet come down upon you, Vladimir," Saladin stated crisply. "I know what I would like for you to become, but I cannot make the choice for you."

Vladimir still gapping mouth glanced up at his grandfather with large frightened eyes. He mumbled his farewells before fleeing the room after his father.

"He'll be back," Salazar muttered stirring himself to life. "He gave us some useful information."

Saladin snorted and turned to his two grandsons. "We know what Malic wants."

"Yes but why? Why Tristian?" Salazar demanded.

"Malic always had a soft spot for mystery," Saladin sighed heavily rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Silas, Tristian stay here while your father and I make sure Warric is gone and the wards are secure."

Both boys nodded their heads obediently and watched while Saladin and Salazar left the security of the rooms.

"What happened?" Tristian asked as soon as they were gone.

"That was my uncle, or rather uncle that was, Warric. He lost his inheritance when Grandfather found out he was in Malic's pay. Grandfather just fully disinherited Warric fully meaning none of his family as access to any Slytherin money when he dies. To do so means Vladimir would have to deny his father and become Grandfather's servant. On top of that Grandfather just cursed Warric… oh and he murdered my mother…!"

Silas was looking particularly green by this stage. "Here," Tristian offered pouring a mug of steaming mulled mead. "Tastes awful but it might make you feel better."

Silas looked at the mug and took it without remark. Tristian watched as his brother sipped carefully on the hot liquid and glanced at the door now and then as if expecting Malic himself to come barging through unannounced.

"I should feel relieve that I'm no longer number one on Malic's list of Slytherins he must kill. But I don't I feel absolutely frightened. Oh Merlin, Tristian, Malic's a vicious bastard."

Tristian sat beside his brother. "How about I tell you some stories from my days at Hogwarts to past the time? Take your pick of topics, giants, centaurs, dragons, dementors, three headed dogs, vicious little Slytherins…"

"Hey!" Silas cried in good natured annoyance. "That's not funny!"

"Okay over irate Slytherin potions masters?"

Silas grinned. "Any on extremely annoyed violent Gryffindors?"

"No. Well there was the time Hermione Granger slapped Draco Malfoy. But there is one about a great bouncing ferret that has become legend in Gryffindor Tower."

Silas smirked. "Oh, do tell."


	17. Winter Solistice Part Two

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Seventeen. Winter Solstice – Part II**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 21st December 1060: 11:34am **

"I hope you're pleased with yourselves," Tristian mimicking a squeaky first year girl's voice. "We could all have been killed – or worse, _expelled_. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

Tristian chuckled slightly and flopped back down next to Silas who had listened awestruck about Malfoy being turned into a ferret; Quidditch matches and befriending not so friendly giants. "You should have seen poor Ron's face," Tristian concluded. "Classic."

"Indeed," Salazar's voice drawled from the entrance way. Both he and their grandfather had returned looking a little more composed. A minute nod from Saladin confirmed that Vladimir and Warric were no long posing a threat: for the time being.

Tristian grinned up at Salazar impishly and decided to finish his tale with a conclusion. "So the moral of this story is: never accept a wizard's duel of a Slytherin and expect him to turn up."

Silas rolled his eyes, in the last twenty minutes he had become accustomed to Tristian's friendly banter of what makes a Slytherin. "You can't handle that you were expertly conned… nearly expelled within a week of being at school."

Saladin and Salazar made no reply but they both raised their eyebrows. Tristian shifted uneasily and blushed crimson.

"But I wasn't expelled so we can safely conclude that _I _won."

Silas didn't even look mildly impressed. "But Draco was safe in Slytherin dorms while you and your friends nearly got eaten by a three-headed dog."

Tristian chuckled and leant over the fruit tray and selected a plump date. "Well as least my time at Hogwarts was interesting."

"Ha you mean suicidally dangerous."

Tristian grinned and picked another juicy date from the platter and blinked unconcernedly.

"As much as I am finding your conversation enlightening, lads, we will require your presence in the Round Room," Saladin said dryly before stalking out of the rooms. Salazar raised his eyebrows and followed in a more graceful manner.

Tristian picked up a small handful of dates to eat on the way and followed his grandfather and father from the room.

"Not good," Silas muttered by Tristian's side wryly watching his grandfather's barely concealed irradiation.

"Do you think he is mad at us?" Tristian shot back offering his handful of dates.

Silas selected a date, inspected it and dusted it off before placing it into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully glancing from his grandfather and father. Swallowing the date half whole he turned to Tristian who was waiting for his answer worriedly. "No. If they were angry at us we would know it, trust me. However, it has been a trying day for both of them…For all of us."

Tristian shuffled uneasily. "I'm really sorry about your mum."

Silas smiled sadly and patted Tristian's shoulder. "I was very young when she went missing. I don't remember her much – except her smile." Silas smiled fondly at his mother's memory. "I remember her smile."

Tristian shuffled again uneasily. "My mother is dead too," he admitted. "I was brought up by muggles."

Silas stopped abruptly. _"Muggles?"_ he shrieked incredulously so that Saladin and Salazar who were a good ten feet away stopped to stare. "By Merlin tell me this is a jest," Silas hissed.

Tristian glanced hesitantly at his grandfather who apparently had better hearing than he had originally estimated. He silently pleaded with his grandfather not to question him further. He knew his grandfather's purists beliefs and dreaded any confrontation with the man.

"You should have told us earlier, Tristian," Saladin said a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Not impressed."

Salazar was surprisingly Tristian's rescuer: he lifted a gloved hand to Saladin's shoulder. "Father, don't berate the boy. It can't be helped."

Tristian hung his head aware that his cheeks were beet red. This was the first time he ever felt ashamed of his heritage. He had taken the 'friendly' teasing about his clothing from older Gryffindors with good grace in his first year but now he felt humiliated.

"I suppose his 'father' then was a no good muggle, Merlin, Salazar. Muggles brought your boy up he probably is half – flipping muggle himself. Next thing we know he'll bring a witch hunt to Hogwarts – betray us like Warric."

"Father!" Salazar snarled. "You're point is irrelevant. Perhaps if you were a better father Warric wouldn't have turned out…"

_Slap!_

Tristian winced in disbelief as Saladin raised his hand against his fully grown son. He stood his ground angrily wondering why all of a sudden that all he wanted to do was flee and cry.

"You're not too old that I can't raise my hand against you, Salazar."

"So I see." Salazar raised first his hand to his burning cheek and then his eyes to face his father's fury. "I suppose you are waiting for me to apologise?"

Saladin had not calmed down. He stood over Salazar clearly fuming. "How dare you use Warric against me?"

Salazar opened his mouth to make another sassy retort but before he could say anything Tristian interrupted him.

"My father was a pureblood wizard murdered alongside my mother, who was a muggle born witch, to protect me. They died to protect, a child that wasn't even theirs, from a homicidal purist sadist who wasn't even pureblood. And as for the muggles – I brought myself up. Furthermore if you have your doubts Avada Kedavra me – no one will miss me at any rate," Tristain stumbled past his shocked grandfather and father and stormed ahead to the Round Room.

When Tristian entered the Round Room he was somewhat surprised to see Helga, Rowena along with Godric and Axcel already there. He stepped silently into the room and closed the door behind him softly.

"Are you alright, Tristian, dear?" Helga inquired looking up from her conversation with Rowena. "You look a little pale."

Tristian shook his head miserably and resolutely refused to meet Godric's eyes. His second father seemed determined to catch his attention without revealing his concern. Tristian on the other hand was determined to ignore him. Breathing in a shaky breathe Tristian took a comfortable seat and stared fixedly at his boots.

"Tristian?" Godric's voice floated over him. The younger wizard blinked and wished that he could bury his nose in Godric's chest and scream his heart out. Ironically even though he had found family some things were still denied to him.

The door clicked open revealing only Salazar and Silas. "Lord Slytherin has excused himself, he isn't feeling too well."

"Poor dear," Helga sighed in her corner.

Salazar rolled his eyes before sweeping into the room with Silas meekly following behind. He raked his dark eyes over Tristian before stepping beside him and squeezing his shoulder.

"This isn't working Godric," Salazar suddenly said carding his hands through Tristian's hair. Tristian bowed his head further, refusing to move despite his discomfort of his Slytherin father's show of affection.

"Oh?" Godric said looking surprised and somewhat wry of the statement.

"Our boy can't be shared, Godric."

Rowena turned her head sharply. "What?" she shrieked studying Tristian carefully, who was now staring at Salazar in disbelief.

"You've no right to…just because I'm not of noble birth… you can't…" Tristian felt immensely miserable hearing Godric's spluttering protests.

Salazar pointedly ignored Ravenclaw's demands and held his hand up to interrupt Godric's angry questions to continue to address his co-founder. "It's best if all of us founders are aware of Tristian's true heritage. Warric let slip Malic is now concentrating efforts on capturing and killing Tristian."

Tristian hated the way Axcel's eyes widened in shock and swivelled to meet his to confirm the story. He dug his boot toe into the plush rug and looked away.

"Godric, I apologise…" at the room's incredulous stare Salazar hesitated before continuing sarcastically. "Yes the great Salazar Slytherin is capable of making an apology. As I was saying Godric I apologise for the fact that you have been kept away from Tristian and forced to play a lesser role. We need you. He'll need you to teach him weaponry, defence along with your senior Gryffindor apprentices. Oh and for goodness sake teach our son how to sit on a horse!"

Godric was looking particularly stunned. Tristian was not sure if it was for the fact that Salazar apologised to him, or that he had been practically ordered what to teach him or the fact that Salazar gave his identity away.

"Er…"

"Yes, Milady Ravenclaw, you have a question?" Salazar asked.

Rowena was glancing from Tristian, to Godric and back to Salazar as if she couldn't quite figure it out. If there was something Rowena loathed it was a perplexing puzzle that her ingenious mind could not fathom or solve. Salazar knowing this ran his hand possessively through Tristian's hair and paused waiting for Godric to snap out of his shock and say whatever came first to his mind.

"You're giving me access to our son?" Godric asked finally. "Out of the realm of tutor?"

Salazar smiled. "Of course, you're half his father after all."

"What is going on?" Rowena demanded. Dutiful Helga nodded along with her friend. "'Tis not possible."

Feeling sorry for Rowena, Salazar told of Tristian's unique conception and how he ended up in Medieval Hogwarts. Tristian made himself comfortable and chewed on the remaining handful of dates that he had taken from his grandfather's chambers.

Salazar quickly finished the tale and the two female founders took their leave and left the Gryffindors and Slytherins alone. Salazar requested a moment alone with Tristian and the others left.

Salazar sighed heavily and sat himself in a chair directly opposite Tristian so that Tristian could not continue to ignore his presence as he did with everyone else.

"Tristian, you'll need to forgive your grandfather for his harsh and hasty words," Salazar started taking Tristian's shaking hands in his own. "He did not mean to say such things nor did he mean to wound you."

Tristian blinked and returned stoically. "I'm not offended."

Salazar laughed mirthlessly and set Tristian's hands in his lap. He sobered quickly however as he continued. "Understand that since my elder brother's betrayal a few years ago my father has not been the same. Your grandfather will never admit it but Warric's betrayal has hurt him deeply. Warric was trusted as father's successor and war mage. His trust has been seriously undermined and violated. He will never trust again. Sometimes when he drinks too much mead he will make hasty accusations towards me because he feels he can't even trust his son. It was the first time however that he accused one of his grandsons. Today was just too much for your grandfather. "

"I won't forget what he said," Tristian said irritably. "How can I?"

"I'm not trying to make excuses for your grandfather. I just want you to understand." Salazar sighed and pulled their chairs closer. "No his words can't be taken away but you can move forward."

Tristian nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't…"

"Hush," Salazar commanded. "This is what I want you to do. I want you to go with Godric and spend time with him. Forget Malic and your grandfather for now and enjoy what time you have with Godric." Salazar smiled as he stood. "This is not how I foresaw the day going. Gift giving can wait for the morning. Your grandfather is quite shaken by what has happened today."

"I'm sorry…"

Salazar smiled sadly. "Happy Winter Solstice."

Tristian snorted in response as he stood and walked towards the door. "Yes, Happy Winter Solstice."

"Give Godric a father and son hug would you?" Salazar hissed in Tristian's ear as he reached for the door knob. "Our great Gryffindor hero has been dying to find an excuse to do so."

"Er… I'll try…"

'

'

'

Tristian didn't have to make an excuse to give Godric a hug. As he entered the Gryffindor family wing through the statue that jealously guarded the entrance, Godric had been there to welcome him. Before Tristian could open his mouth to say something Godric stepped forward and wrapped his strong arms around his slim form and pulled him close.

If Tristian ever thought Molly Weasley's embrace was strong: Godric's was something different altogether. Tristian would have thought he would have felt uncomfortable and threatened. He sighed heavily into his father's chest. Godric's sigh echoed his and Tristian could have sworn he 'heard' Godric smile.

A moment later Godric released Tristian and stepped back. Tristian blinked slowly at the sudden loss of warmth. It had been the first time in his living memory another man had hugged him like that.

Godric on the other hand was smiling down on him his eyes were sparkling. "Never fear: I'll have you duelling with the best of them in no time."

Axcel, who had been watching his father and brother from his vantage point, groaned loudly. "Ah I pity you, Pappa is a hard task master," Axcel informed Tristian solemnly. "Not only will you gain skill with a blade but you will discover muscles you never knew you possessed."

Godric turned around to face his grinning sandy haired son and heir. "And you shall be joining him."

Axcel groaned again as if bemoaning his fate but to Tristian's glee. Well at least he would not be alone in his suffering.

Godric wrapped one arm around Tristian's should and guided him through the chambers only pausing to claim Axcel's shoulder on the way past with his free hand.

The small Gryffindor family was to be surprised as they entered the inner most chambers of their private quarters. The trio stopped as they realised there was an old man sitting in Godric's chair and drinking Godric's finest ale.

"Father?" Godric asked in apparent shock apart of him wanted to hide Tristian from the view of the stranger but knew it was pointless. "What are you doing here?"

The old man continued to drink the ale in an unconcerned manner. Tristian took the opportunity to study the man before him. Unlike his Slytherin relatives this man was not dressed in finery: his robes were dull brown and green for the exception of a small red and gold scarf around his middle. The years had not been kind. His grey hair and beard was wispy and wavy but unfortunately sparse. His left eye socket was bandaged with a cloth. He didn't look anything like Godric, Tristian decided.

"Grandfather!" Axcel stepped forward excitedly and embraced the old man enthusiastically. The old man patted Axcel's head affectionately. "It's been such a long time."

"See Godric this is how you should greet your old man."

Godric shook himself slowly and stepped forward. "I am pleased to see you, father. I wasn't expecting to see you."

"Your wards are surprisingly shocking Godric," the old man admonished sternly over the rim of his ale glass. "I admit myself disappointed."

Godric watched as his father drank from the ale glass and shuffled and glanced back to where Tristian was standing stiffly. "Tristian…" Godric whispered unsure of how he should proceed. "Tristian could you perhaps…"

"Nonsense," the old man snapped interrupting Godric's decision. The old man's good eye impaled Tristian were he stood. "He must stay."

Tristian nearly sighed in relief when the old man turned his gaze back to Godric and patted Axcel's arm absently. "Erebus Prior is dead," he announced.

Tristian tried to feel sorry for the man but found he couldn't dig up any pity for the man. He hadn't liked him very much.

Godric also started and turned to Tristian. "How?"

"Malic's spies."

"Ah…"

"He told an interesting story, Godric my boy. A very interesting story: Malic didn't believe him and he came to me with his tale of ingenious invention."

Tristian thought he paled somewhat before blushing a tell tale crimson as the old man spoke turning to him with those dark penetrating eyes. Axcel stood upright staring at his brother and Godric sighed heavily.

"Tell me Godric what facet of truth is there in Prior's story?"

Godric turned to the blushing Tristian and replied steadily. "Most likely all."

"Ah I see," the old man stated dryly his eye still on Tristian before snapping back to Godric. "Tell me when you were going to inform me I had another grandson gallivanting around the countryside."

Godric guiltily looked away and did not answer.

"I see," the old man repeated bitterly. "Your lowly born father didn't deserve to know."

"It wasn't like that father," Godric protested.

"Why did I pull you out of your burning crib as your natural born parents died?" the old man snorted.

"The same reason I protect Tristian even if it injures me," Godric quipped.

"Tristian… ah a good bold name." The old man seemed to have forgotten his anger as he looked at Tristian with a new fascination.

"Saladin's invention," Godric explained.

"Ah – Tristian for his great-grandfather then." For the first time Tristian saw the old man smile. "Come here boy my eyesight is poorly."

With an encouraging nod from Godric, Tristian nervously stepped forward towards the old man who was patiently waiting for him to approach. Tristian didn't expect the old man stand but stand he did and grabbed his grin gently: it was only then Tristian spied the walking cane beside his other grandfather. "Your great-grandfather was a good man: poor but a good man nevertheless. Tristian Gryffindor could aspire to nothing but greatness."

Tristian smiled faintly sure that his lips wobbled too much.

"He looks much like Snake-tongue to be sure: but I can tell he is yours Godric." Godric startled and glanced questioningly to Tristian as if he had never seen him in that light. "Yours Godric, his eyes are a window to his character."

The old man let go of Tristian's chin abruptly and flopped inelegantly back into the chair.

"They say you have the power of fire young Tristian?" the old man inquired.

Tristian paused to ponder the question. "I seem to have some affinity to fire, sir," he replied in a measured tone.

"Not surprising considering the ingredients Prior used – phoenix tears indeed," the old man snorted. "I heard you melted the lake outside."

"Not the whole lake, grandfather," Axcel commented.

"That wasn't my intent sir," Tristian gabbled eyes flicking heatedly to Axcel who seemed to be chuckling.

"Intention has nothing to do with it," the old man grumbled. "How powerful Godric?"

Godric snapped out of his stupor and sent a cursory glance over Tristian. "Powerful, father," was all he answered.

"Ah. Then don't forget he is yours."

"And Salazar's," Godric answered. "I won't deny the other half of his identity."

The old man sighed. "Be careful, Godric. Don't let those snake-lords take over. He is _yours_."

"Sir," Tristian said softly interrupting what he thought might become an argument. "I will also be what I am. I have a special affinity to all that is Gryffindor. The Hogwarts where I came from Gryffindor was my home and my family it will always be a special part of me. But I am also a Slytherin, just as sly, cunning and resourceful as any of the others. Look at me as a Gryffindor with some prominent Slytherin traits."

"Oh, I see now," the old man said leaning back into the chair regarding Tristian critically. "He has a bold tongue, Godric."

"Too bold," Godric growled. Tristian internally winced at his father's tone.

The old man smiled softly and chuckled, "He is yours then. Now how about some luncheon…"

'

'

'

Axcel and Tristian sat by the fireside in a companionable silence as Godric escorted his father from the Hogwarts grounds. "It's been an eventful day," Axcel said proffering the two long knives his father had given him.

Tristian sighed and glanced down at the sword Godric and Axcel had given him, remembering his father's whisper 'I know it isn't much'. It was a beautiful weapon, long and thin unlike the balky blades that seemed to be fashionable. It was of a very simple design except of the lettering of his name – the letters changes from green and red depending on the angle you looked down on the blade.

"Very eventful," Tristian murmured in response. He twisted his new blade over only to be jolted awake when he thought he saw the lettering change from 'Tristian' to 'Harry' in a split second. It had happened so quickly he had thought he had dreamed it all up until Axcel spoke up.

"Father new how important your past was to you," his brother said solemnly. "He does not wish for you to forget."

Tristian grinned up Axcel.

"I got my sword last year," Axcel told Tristian and nodded to the sword now lying in his brother's lap. "They are brother swords."

Tristian sighed and picked up the sword gingerly. "I doubt I will do the blade any justice."

Axcel's eyebrows shot up. "What makes you say that? You're gifted and you're the son of Godric Gryffindor."

"I'm probably just as gifted at sword fighting as I am at horse riding," Tristian returned challengingly.

"Well…" Axcel said slowly his eyes flashing in mirth. "That was certainly interesting watching you that time when we went hunting."

"Oh please forgive me, Your Highness, you never gave me any instruction of what to do with the stupid animal!"

"What?" Axcel's eyes widened in shock. "You've never ridden before!"

"Of course not," Tristian snapped at the ridiculous thought of wizards riding horses.

"Well that explains it then. You looked positively uncomfortable on the back of that bicorn – poor beast," Axcel said with a goofy grin. "I'll take you somewhere private then and teach you," he promised. "Somewhere not even Silas can find us."

"_You?_ Teach me?" Tristian asked incredulously. "To ride?"

Axcel nodded and grinned. "Every Gryffindor graduates as a master horseman, so you have a lot of work to do."

"But I'm not an official Gryffindor," Tristian argued clutching at straws so he didn't have to go near another horse.

"You were born one," Axcel said dryly.

"Only half."

"My mother wasn't a Gryffindor so that makes me half a Gryffindor and father was adopted by our grandfather so he isn't a Gryffindor which is ludicrous because he is the founder of the Gryffindor house and besides…."

"Okay, okay I get your point," Tristian grumbled and sleepily closed his eyes before unconsciousness took him.

"Goodnight, brother," was all he heard before the world turned black.


	18. Life Goes On

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Eighteen. As Life Goes On**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 22nd December 1060 AD, 07:03am **

Tristian woke to find himself still sitting by the fire from the pervious evening. He yawned lazily and stretched his weary muscles before. Axcel was sound asleep next to him.

Grinning evilly Tristian gave his reluctant brother a poke. Axcel only moaned and turned over in his sleep so Tristian poked him again. This time Axcel wafted his hand lazily as if chasing an annoying fly.

"Hey Axcel," Tristian said this time digging his fingers into Axcel's side and twisting slightly.

"Mmmmf." Axcel blinked sleepily and raised his eyebrows. He watched sleepily as Trsitian stood and shook out his wrinkled robes.

"I'm going back to my rooms. I want to be prepared if Grandfather Slytherin decides to approach me."

Axcel appraised his brother through sleepy eyes. When mentioning his other grandfather Tristian seemed a little sad. "Is that fear flickering in my dear brothers eyes?" Axcel teased.

Tristian sighed and slumped down. "I think I screwed up."

"Eh?" Axcel said wrinkling his nose. "What's screwed up? Is that one of your weird modern says?"

Trsitian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "It means I think I made a big mistake."

"So?"

Trsitian sighed, it seemed like Axcel was not getting the message. "I completely lost the plot. It came up that I was raised by muggles…"

At this point Axcel hissed.

"Oh please not you too!" Tristian exclaimed.

"Look Trist," Axcel said softly. "Muggles aren't the nicest of beings and if there is one clan that is aware of it, it's the Slytherins."

"Yeah. But what's wrong with muggles?"

"There's nothing wrong with muggles per se," Axcel continued slowly and deliberately. "They just cannot be trusted. And if there is one thing the Slytherins can't tolerate: it's beings that can't be trusted."

Tristian turned his head away. "That doesn't make me a bad person though. It was suddenly like I was the scum of the earth."

Axcel rubbed his chin in thought and regarded his other brother critically. "Then you have to show him that you aren't indoctrinated by muggles."

"How?" Tristian murmured. "Everything I do is practically wrong. And I practically told Grandfather Slytherin to AK me."

"I think you are being a little over dramatic," Axcel commented dryly. "And AK what's AK?

"Avada Kedavra," Tristian replied making an unconscious hand movement mimicking the use of a wand.

Axcel's jaw dropped and he regarded Tristian in horror. "Don't even jest about that curse," Axcel said to fill in the silence. Tristian noted that his brother's voice warbled. "Don't jest about it."

"Why?" Tristian demanded curiously. "What's wrong with it?"

Axcel clamped his jaw shut stood and grabbed Tristian's hand. "Everything," was the curt answer as Tristian was dragged to his own chambers.

Tristian surrendered to Axcel's vice like grip and followed rather meekly. What he had said seemed to have made his Gryffindor brother uneasy. So he followed a step behind and silent.

Axcel barged through Tristian's door and parted with a simple. "I'll see you at the stables in an hour," before leaving Tristian in his chambers but decidedly not alone.

Saladin Slytherin was sitting on his bed interrogating Sidonius of his whereabouts. As Tristian entered hastily with Axcel Saladin had frozen and seemed to stare at Tristian as if bewildered by the younger wizard's presence.

"Tristian," Saladin sighed standing so that his long regal robes swirled around his body. Tristian took an involuntarily step backwards and Saladin bowed his head sadly.

"Tristian," Saladin tried again. Tristian shook his head and turned on his heel.

"I had not meant to injure you so," Saladin all but blurted as Tristian's hand went to the door. "I didn't mean to break the trust between us."

Tristian dropped his hand to his side. "But you did."

"And I regret that Tristian," Saladin returned steadily stepping forward until he stood directly behind Tristian. "I didn't mean any what I said, truly."

"And I suppose that makes it all okay then?" Tristian snarled turning abruptly facing Saladin head on.

"I…" Saladin raised his hand half way to Tristian's face before the young wizard flinched away from his touch. He sighed heavily and let his hand drop to his side. "No, it doesn't make it okay," Saladin sighed. "I wronged my whole clan and I can't change what was said no matter how I wish."

"What no time devices to start again?"

"As I said Trist, no!" Saladin fumed before realising Tristian was only jesting with him. "And that is what I regret most," he continued in a soft voice.

Tristian shifted his weight uncomfortably. "What if I told you I had a rotten memory?"

Saladin closed his eyes slowly. "Are you saying you forgive me?" Tristian truly felt for his grandfather. He seemed weary of a sudden.

"For what?" Tristian asked innocently with a smile.

Saladin's eyes snapped open and regarded Tristian sternly. "You're a good lad, I think."

"I know so," Tristian added cheekily. "People can't but help love me."

"Hmm…" Saladin murmured stroking his goatee. "I shall have to remember that. Now Salazar and Silas are waiting for yesterdays gift giving we missed yesterday."

Tristian brightened considerably and grabbed a sack he had left by the door a few days ago. "I'm ready," he said grinning up at Saladin. "Although I feel a little like Santa."

"What's Santa?"

Tristian spent the next few minutes explaining who Santa was as Saladin lead him not towards his chambers as he expected but through snow laden grounds and towards the stables. Tristian followed without making a comment. It was never wise to talk without thinking in front of a Slytherin.

Salazar and Silas were already waiting by the stable doors. They seemed to have been expecting Tristian and Saladin.

Nods of acknowledgement were exchanged when Salazar indicated for Tristian to go first into the gloom of the stables. Tristian already had funny feeling about this situation. Sure enough Salazar took control, taking Tristian's shoulders and lead him towards a particular stall.

A long velvety nose snuffled at Tristian in greeting as he came to face with a fine boned stallion. "What do you think?" Salazar demanded. "Is he not a fine animal?"

Tristian regarded the animal before him who took the opportunity to shake his mane as if to say – look at me! His coat was a silvery grey, with black socks, black tipped ears and nose.

Tristian reached out slowly and touched the tip of the animal's muzzle.

"I trust you analysis, sir," Tristian murmured before turning to Salazar. "Thank you... I don't know anything about horses…"

The stallion took the opportunity to knock Tristian off his feet by nudging him enthusitically. "He's a bit spoiled," Silas explained as he pulled Tristian to his feet. "Don't go spoiling him more."

"I won't," Tristian vowed.

"So?" Saladin asked indicating to the horse. "Name?"

"Er…" Tristian never thought he was any good at this naming thing. He glanced at the other three Slytherins who all stared at him expectantly. He turned back to the horse who was now standing to attention. Tristian hadn't noticed how large the animal was in comparison to him.

"Goliath?" Tristian hazard.

Silas snorted through his nose. "Giant? Feeling a little over shadowed, Trist?"

"Just a little," Tristian murmured edging away from the newly named Goliath who reaching out to nudge him over again.

"Stop that!" Silas said admonishing Goliath. "Your master doesn't have any carrots, apples, oats or honey cakes."

Despite Silas' chastisement, Goliath looked rather hopeful even when the four Slytherins left the stable.

"Thank you," Tristian murmured again.

"Now all you have to do is learn how to sit on a horse," Saladin murmured with a grimace.

Tristian groaned and shifted his sack of goodies on his shoulders. "Don't expect any miracles."

They were all seated in Saladin's rooms again being served sweetmeats by Ulrich before Tristian even thought of presenting his gifts to his family. He blushed profusely worried they could not accept what he had to offer. Ulrich was smiling at him from the corner as he fumbled with the sack nervously.

The serving man had helped Tristian pilfer any unused candle sticks and other oddment around the castle for him to create his gifts. He had used his power with creating heat to melt and mould the metal.

"It isn't much," Tristian mumbled inaudibly as he pulled the first one from the bag. "For all the candle sticks I've ruined, sir."

Saladin despite his mask of cool dignity sucked in a deep breath of air. "You created this?"

Tristian nodded as he handed the candle stick over. Saladin turned it over and appraised the crafted metal with an appreciatively look. It was no ordinary candlestick that Tristian had created. It stood as tall and perfectly balanced. Three snakes had been created to twine around themselves in a spiralling fashion their three diamond heads forming a base for the candle.

Saladin ran his fingers along the textured scales Tristian had moulded into the metal as Tristian handed identical candle sticks first to Salazar and then Silas.

"You should be a metal smith boy," Saladin breathed in way of compliment.

'

'

'

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 30th December 1060 AD, 10:24am **

Tristian reined in Goliath as Axcel had shown him and turned his head towards his brother. Goliath snorted irritably and wrenched his head to the side nearly making Tristian tumbled out of the saddle, much to Axcel's amusement.

"I'm hopeless," Tristian grumbled looking in disdain at his misbehaving stallion who was now chopping on lash grass at his leisure now that his master had given up.

"Don't let him win," Axcel said patting the long elegant neck of his burly chestnut Octavian. "Get his head up."

Tristian sighed heavily and picked up the reins and tugged… and tugged and tugged. Goliath continued his meal as if Tristian on his back was no more bothersome than a minuscule fly. Gritting his teeth Tristian gave another tug.

"How come Octavian is well behaved?" Tristian ground out between his teeth.

Axcel regard his brother humourlessly. "Because Octavian knows whose boss that's why. Give Goliath a good kick with your heel."

Feeling angry, humiliated and frustrated Tristian did give Goliath a good kick, just a little too enthusiastically. Goliath large head shot up as he took off at a gallop across the field, with Tristian holding on for grim death.

For a moment Axcel admired the fine form of Goliath powering across the snowy field with poor Tristian bopping along uncomfortably before he decided he better do something.

"HOLD ON TRIST…!" A moment later Axcel had whirled Octavian over to give chase to the runaway grey, which had kidnapped his brother. "PULL BACK ON THE REINS!" Axcel shrieked as Tristian chose that moment to loose them.

"I'm TRYING!" Axcel swore he heard Tristian cry back against the strength of the wind. "STUPID HORSSSSE!"

Axcel shook his head and urged Octavian to a faster pace. As a larger war horse, Octavian did not have the advantage of Goliath's agility and speed.

"THEN TRY HARDER!" Axcel called back cutting a corner short in order to try and cut across Goliath's path.

Goliath was unfortunately a fairly intelligent horse. Fed up with the annoying ride on his back he charged straight for a tree.

"ARGGGHHH!" Tristian cried deciding it was about time to forsake his precarious perch on the back of his mad horse in order to escape certain collision of an impeding tree trunk.

"TRIST!"

Tristian jumped and then rolled out of the path of his rampaging horse. He stopped face down in the snow and shook his head sadly. His stupid horse had actually charged at a tree.

"TRISSSTTT!"

Tristian had no idea that Axcel could scream quite like that. He covered his face in embarrassment until he heard the distinct sound of Octavian's hooves and Axcel dismounting.

"Oh Merlin Trist!" Axcel groaned. "Father going to kill me."

Tristian battered and sore turned over and started to laugh somewhat hysterically. "Not before I murder my horse!"

"Are you okay?"

Tristian blinked away the involuntary tears of pain as Axcel's face swam over his face. "I think so just a little bruised. Goliath?"

"Missed the tree."

"Stupid animal," Tristian grumbled groaning as he sat up. Goliath, who was standing nearby like a model obedient steed, let out a mirthful whinny. Tristian turned back to a concerned looking Axcel. "I won't tell if you won't."

Axcel smiled ruefully. "Deal. Now let's get back we have our first weaponry class with Father in an hour."

Tristian groaned and flopped back into the grass. "Just what I need."

'

'

'

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 30th December 1996AD, 11:34am **

**(A/N: Look at the date people).**

Harry had mysteriously disappeared from the Halls of Hogwarts just over seven weeks ago. Tests done by Aurors had confirmed that no dark evil magic had occurred in the hallowed halls but a mysterious residue of a spell in the Gryffindor Common Room.

It had remained unknown which spell had been cast – but conclusive tests by Hermione Granger concluded it was a form of an ancient summoning spell. A spell that was used summon something that had properties of something that lived. Hermione was certain she was correct and had bypassed Ron to report to Albus Dumbledore her conclusions. Harry Potter had been kidnapped from the Gryffindor Common Room.

The mystery remained however. Snape had not heard any indication that Voldemort had been responsible. The Dark Lord seemed to have deep feelings of ambivalence to the whole situation. On one had he was deeply concerned that he had not killed the boy-who-ruddy-survives-every-attack-he-conjures another part of him was victorious that Harry Potter was no longer an annoying hurdle for him to obtain world domination.

There were more questions that answers in the Boy-Who-Lived disappearance. If Voldemort hadn't been the cause, who was? Where had the unknown ancient spell originated from? How did the spell get past all of Hogwarts wards? Why was Harry taken, for what purpose?

Whatever the answers, Hermoine Jane Granger, regretfully believed the same as the wizarding world. Harry James Potter was not coming home. He had been pronounced officially dead by the Ministry of Magic a day before Christmas Eve.

Today would be the day they would say goodbye to Harry. A statue had been erected in the courtyard of Harry in his Gryffindor robes with his trusty broom in his hand.

There would be no grave for Harry Potter nor would there be a funeral. All he had was a statue and a plague dedicated to the life he had lived at Hogwarts and a no fuss memorial service for Hogwarts students and those who received invitations. (Hermione had fought viciously with the Headmaster and the Minister of Magic to keep the press away).

Hermione stood by the close doors of the Great Hall she sucked in her breath and creaked the doors open. She sailed past the snickering Slytherins, ignoring the urge to break Draco Malfoy's nose and sat beside Ron Weasley.

Ron as expected had not taken the news that his best friend in the world had been pronounced dead. He refused to believe even now he stared straight ahead looking at the phoenix podium from which Dumbledore was expected to speak.

"His coming home," Ron said determined not looking at Hermione. "He will come home someday. I know it."

'

'

'

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 30th December 1060AD, 11:44am **

Weaponry was to be taught in a large downstairs classroom that consisted of only plenty of space. For the most part the other older Gryffindor apprentices ignored the intrusion of their presence.

Tristian was somewhat surprised to see that Godric's class, while mostly comprising of older boys had five girls of various ages. Seeing where his brother was looking Axcel butted Tristian with his elbow.

"Not many girls do weaponry so Father opened it to younger girls to see if he could coax more to join us," Axcel whispered as he pushed Tristian forward. "See that girl?"

Tristian glanced in the direction of where Axcel was pointing to a girl with long blonde curls and big blue eyes. "Imogene Harcourt my betrothed."

"Betrothed?" Tristain inquired nervously. "You're betrothed _already_?"

"Of course," Axcel returned lightly. Before elbowing Tristian roughly as Godric entered the room followed by one of the elder apprentices.

"Mind the bruises," Tristian grumbled.

"Henry Rutherford," Axcel whispered in Tristian's ear. "Father's favourite student." As Tristian raised an eyebrow Axcel continued quickly, "Apart from me of course."

The brothers choked on their snickers as Godric's eyes swept over them. "My son Axcel and Tristian Wolfe are here of my invitation. I would expect that you will all welcome them to our fold."

A roomful of heads turned to stare at Axcel and Tristian as Godric looked on almost fondly.

"It's true then, Master Gryffindor?" one girl with long black hair and straight nose demanded.

"Amrita Something-or-other from Spain," Axcel whispered. "She's not betrothed."

"What would be true Miss Amrita?" Godric asked.

"Malic intended invasion of Hogwarts, Sir Gryffindor," her curly red haired friend continued.

"Marguerite the French," Axcel muttered.

"Doesn't sound French to me," Tristian murmured.

"Father is an ambassador from France. Born and raised her so she is almost as good as English born… her betrothed dumped her for a pretty Italian last year."

Tristian rolled his eyes.

"She broke his nose for it… so I don't suggest her. Cute but dangerous."

"Mmmm."

Axcel stared at his brother in bewilderment. "You're not serious are you?"

"Me? Serious? Naw…" Tristian returned quickly. "But you were right about the cute part."

"Lord Slytherin would never approve," Axcel hissed back.

"What's it got to do with him anyway?"

Axcel shook his head and fixed his eyes on his Father who looked like he was finishing a spiel.

"… some threats have been made, yes. However there is no indication that the security of Hogwarts has been compromised."

"Whose life has been threatened, my lord?" Henry inquired curiously.

Godric didn't look like he wanted to answer the question his eyes flickered briefly towards Tristian. Henry however saw the movement in his hero's eyes, he turned his head to Tristian's direction and then to his mentor who seemed troubled. Tristian watched Henry whisper something to Godric before Godric nodded and Henry left his side.

Tristian could not take his eyes away from the older apprentice has he approached him boldly.

"Henry Rutherford." The older apprentice poffered his hand towards Tristian. Tristian took the Henry's hand to shake.

"Tristian Wolfe."

"I know," Henry said letting Tristian's hand go. "Lord Godric has charged me in teaching you."

"Oh."

"He wants me to prove that I can teach," Henry announced proudly beaming widely and showing off his rows of white teeth. "Next year I might come back and teach other apprentices."

"I'm sure you are a good teacher," Tristian mumbled.

"Thanks," Henry chirruped looking immensely pleased with himself. "Axcel and the girls shall join us also. But Lord Godric wants you train especially hard under my tutelage."

"Eh sure…" Tristian hazard as Henry motioned for the girls to come over.

"These are Gryffindor's own vixens," Henry said proudly as the girls approached them. "Imogene Harcourt, Amrita Diaz, Ophelia Loveday, Esther Danby and Marguerite Dupont."

The girls all looked at Axcel and Tristian and giggled together expect Marguerite who looked a little uncomfortable. Some things had obviously not changed over the course of history. Girls had obviously always been gigglers.

"Right," Henry said with a flourish. "Time to get to work!"

'

'

'

**A/N: the horse riding accident is dedicated to my dear sister. Who had the very same thing happen to her – and yes she got up laughing and giggling after we all thought she had fallen and broken her neck… grrrr…**


	19. Vladimir's Return

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Nineteen. Vladimir's Return **

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 3****rd**** January, 1061 AD 8:09am **

Tristian groaned as Henry called for me to pair off with Amrita Diaz. He stretched his muscles lazily and watched as four of the five girls nearly swooned where they stood. Imogene was too busy eying off Axcel who was completely oblivious to his intended attention. As he passed his lounging brother and aiming an elbow in his stomach Tristian winked at the flirting Ophelia. If Henry Rutherford was going to have him training in the early hours of the morning, Tristian decided he would have fun.

"Miss Diaz," Tristian said drawing his sword slowly with the bow of his head.

"How many times must I tell you to call me Amrita?" The pretty Spanish girl asked battering her eyes at him under her long luxurious black locks.

"Until I beat you," Tristian said grinning taking a step forward.

Amrita unsheathed her sword and took a counter step. "Then I am sorely tempted to loose by you sir."

Tristian shrugged apologetically. "That would be cheating."

"Never bothered any Slytherin I knew," Amrita purred battering her dark lashes again.

"I'm not like any other Slytherin," Tristian commented taking another step forward.

"Oh, get on with it!" Henry muttered staring disapprovingly at the girls. Amrita for her outrageous tongue, Ophelia and Esther of their obvious giggling and flirting over Tristian and was grave regal Marguerite eying Tristian's backside? Imogene, Henry noticed was behaving no better twirling her locks around her fingers and preening in front of half asleep Axcel.

Tristian took a sweeping bow and allowed Amirta's sword to clash onto his own. They shared a few blows. Amrita was lighter on her feet and more agile. Tristian found that keeping up with the pretty Spanish girl impossible. She had been given 'the proper instruction' since she was four. By far she surpassed the abilities of even Henry.

Tristian only had just that thought when Amrita knocked him bodily to the floor. His sword knocked away Tristian found himself helpless at the end of Amrita's sword.

Ringing claps made Tristian jump and Amrita preen as she stepped back. "Well done, Miss Amrita," Godric's voice boomed.

Tristian let his head thump back onto the floor. "I'm buggered," he muttered to himself. Amrita on the other hand was glowing from Godric's praise.

"Wolfe… Dupont," Henry barked obviously trying to impress Godric. This did not impress Tristian at all. He rolled clumsily onto his back and waggled his eyebrows in Marguerite's direction. The French girl stoically ignored his playful banter but the slight quirk of her lips indicated that Tristian's attention was not unwanted.

When Marguerite had her back turned to Godric she battered her eyes prettily and darted her gaze to where Imogene was practically swooning to get Axcel's attention. Tristian grinned, wolfishly and shook his head before rolling his eyes and approaching carefully.

"Hopeless," Marguerite said as their swords finally clashed and they met in the middle. Tristian shook his head and stared up as if he was looking to the heavens before stepping back and delivering another blow. "Young love," Tristian replied gravely.

"What can I say?"

Marguerite pivoted and stuck out her foot to trip her opponent.

"Not trying to humiliate me are you?" Tristian inquired seriously as he stood over her foot.

"Of course," Marguerite replied as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She drew her sword back but was met by Tristian's steel.

"… the girls are practically falling at his feet." Tristian heard Henry complain to Godric.

"It's natural. He is young, by no means ugly and readily available for betrothal," Godric had replied.

"… we're getting nothing done."

"Nonsense, you are a fine teacher and Tristian is improving daily."

"If only he would stop flirting," Henry muttered.

"I was very much like him at his age," Godric sighed wistfully.

Tristian pivoted on the ball on his feet as Marguerite almost swiped at his belly. "Concentrate," Marguerite tsked poking out her tongue and flipping her curly red hair out of her face. Tristian decided it was time to tune out to his father's whispered conversation and follow Marguerite's suggestion that he should at least concentrate on what he was doing.

A few parries and a couple of invented moves later Marguerite found herself at the point of Tristian's blade. "Oh," she stammered dropping her sword as Tristian indicated. "I didn't see that coming…"

Tristian grinned, winked and bent over to retrieve her sword. "Milady," he murmured handing it hilt first.

Marguerite blinked at him inquiringly with large doe like eyes before taking the sword gingerly. "How did you…?"

"Show you later," Tristian replied smoothly as Godric's booming applause ended their conversation.

'

'

'

Tristian sat in his usual chair as Saladin lectured him once more on the aspect of control. Since Winter Solstice Tristian had improved from making the candle sticks to only producing a small flickering flame without liquefying everything in reach.

Tristian however felt he was going backwards now that he was expected to freeze a goblet of water. Much to Saladin's frustration he had frozen the whole table and rug instead. So Tristian was subjected to another lecture on control before he was allowed to try again.

The lecture was abruptly interrupted by Ulrich who dashed in breathing hard. "I'm sorry milord, but I couldn't stop…"

Saladin stared impassively from his station in front of the hearth at his babbling serving man. A moment later he realised the reason for Ulrich's outburst as Vladimir entered the room glaring his usual daggers. He was followed by two small identical twin girls.

Vladimir took one look in Tristian's direction and jerked his head at him. "Out, whelp," Vladimir demanded imperiously.

Tristian was sorely tempted to get out of his bad tempered cousin's way but decided to glare back defiantly.

"I hope you have a legitimate reason for being here," Saladin growled dangerously laying a hand on Tristian's shoulder to keep him in his seat. "As you can see I'm busy."

Vladimir snorted rudely and unclasped his long fur lined cloak and let it fall to the ground. It was only then Tristian realised his cousin was hurt. Unlike his grandfather he was not wearing robes, only a hose and a coarse shirt covered in mail. His shoulder was bleeding clumped with dark rich blood. Suddenly Vladimir looked old and weary.

"My sisters Georgina and Gretchen, I pray milord that you take them under your protection," Vladimir murmured darkly ushering the two girls forward.

The twins Tristian decided were no more than nine. Both had long brown, thick curly hair and big angry sea green eyes. Tristian had never seen such a fury in one so young.

"But Vlad I don't want to stay with him," one of the girls whined.

"We want to stay with you," the other pleaded.

Vladimir's face actually softened as he knelt before his sisters and wrapped them in his long cloak. He pushed stray hair away from their faces and hushed them quietly. "You must stay here where it is safe."

Vladimir stood slowly and turned to Saladin who had watched him wryly and like a hawk. "Will you, milord?"

"I shall, Vladimir," Saladin promised looking down at the pouting girls. He felt another migraine and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could tell these girls were going to cause him some terrible headaches. He watched as Vladimir's hands rested on the twins' heads lightly as if he was blessing them.

"It doesn't have to be this way, Vlad," Saladin found himself saying. He immediately caught his breath in his throat as Vladimir turned to him with a terrible expression on his face.

"You are the one who condemned my father to death," Vladimir returned hotly. "How could it be otherwise when you disinherited him so fully?"

"Him?" one of the girls screeched. "I don't want to stay with him! He's mean!"

"I want to go home to Papa!" the other rejoined.

"Your father chose his own path," Saladin said softly. "And as much love as a father has for his own son I could not condone his actions, Vlad."

"Goodbye, milord," Vladimir murmured brushing his hands through the girl's thick hair one more time. "Look after them."

Vladimir's hand was on the handle of the door before, Saladin perked up enough courage to call out to him. "Vladimir…the way for you is still open." Vladimir didn't make an attempt to reply his hand slipped from the handle slowly.

"Is it?" Vladimir said huskily. Tristian recognised the tone to be one of despair.

"Would submitting yourself to me be any worse than submitting yourself to your father?" Saladin pushed.

"At least by my father's side I will die free," Vladimir replied blandly.

"Truly?" Saladin said his tone saying he disagreed. "I would say you would be bound forevermore in darkness. 'Tis not a path you want to tread."

"Why are you doing this old man?" Vladimir demanded with a half hearted snarl.

"Why do you think?" Saladin returned evenly.

Vladimir's hand rested on the doorknob once again. "Whatever the outcome, grandfather I am dead. I prefer to die on my own terms."

Saladin Slytherin didn't seem to be impressed by his grandson's triad of depressed notions. "Of what nonsense do you speak?" he demanded sharply. "That you should speak of death so certainly?"

"The war is lost, milord," Vladimir sighed heavily. "By the New Year the Slytherin clan and those who dare support you will be destroyed. All but the boy." Vladimir's eyes slid to where Tristian was sitting pretending that he was not privy to the conversation.

Tristian shifted uneasily and let his eyes wander around the room and landed to the twin girls, who obligingly stuck their tongues at him.

"We don't like you," one of them announced.

"You're too pretty to be a boy… not at all like our brother, Vlad."

"Thanks," Tristian muttered. "I think."

"Malic has searched the records of the Welsh Wizarding Community Council and has found no documentation or evidence that the 'Wolfe' clan has ever existed," Vladimir continued gliding across the room and gathering his sisters to chairs by the fire, where they continually pulled faces at the hapless Tristian.

Vladimir chanced a glance up at his grandsire and noted the surprise on his face. "You haven't heard the news yet?" despite his question Vladimir already knew the answer. "Malic has slaughtered all the clans of the Welsh Wizard Community Council and many other magical families in Wales who pose a threat."

Saladin's face visibly paled he picked up a goblet of wine trying to disguise his shaking hands. "Survivors?" even the aged lord's voice seemed to catch in his throat.

"Decimated," Vladimir hissed. "Malic leaves no room for survival. But perhaps more importantly your disguise for the whelp has been discovered. Did you hear about Erebus Prior paying us a visit?"

Tristian winced as Saladin's expression had indeed not heard. Unfortunately this movement was caught by Saladin.

"You know of this?" Saladin demanded harshly slamming down his goblet of wine forcefully as he turned on him. Tristian knew guilt was written all over his face just from Saladin's expression. "And prey tell when were you going to inform me?"

"I had heard rumours," Tristian muttered shamefaced. "I would have thought that you had already been made aware of the news about Prior's unfortunately demise."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth Tristian knew it had been the wrong thing to say.

"Prior is dead then? Aye, he be dead alright." Vladimir murmured. "Where did you hear that boy?"

"It doesn't matter," Saladin said quickly obviously trying to defuse the matter before things got out of control.

"Oh Vlad going red!" one of the little twins giggled.

"Not good," her sister cried.

"It does matter. I was not privy to this information if he knows this then... what Prior was saying was the truth…" Vladimir fixed his gaze on Tristian who was running his hand back and forth over the candle stick lighting and extinguishing a small flickering flame as he did so. Tristian looked up feeling like no more than a naughty first year.

"Should I go?" Tristian mumbled fidgeting with the edge of his coat.

Saladin nodded giving his permission to Tristian to leave. "Have your fathers come up we have much to discuss…"


	20. The Banner of the Black Fang

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Twenty. Banner of the Black Fang **

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 9****th**** January 1061: 11:23am **

Tristian sighed heavily as Marguerite sighed wistfully over his twin cousins. Somehow, despite all his protests Tristian had found himself burdened with looking after the newly appointed terrors of Hogwarts Castle.

Georgina, Tristian could handle in small doses. She was less likely to say exactly what was on her mind; unless of course Gretchen had made a show of spurting words of wisdom. Gretchen, on the other had could not stand anyone else in the family. Being the elder twin and a girl, she had been lavishly spoiled by her father. Neither twin had taken kindly to the fact they had been wrenched away from their father. Instead of blaming Vlad for his decision the girls had decided to make Saladin's and consequently Tristian's lives living nightmares.

Tristian had no idea of what Saladin had said to Vladimir in order to persuade the younger Slytherin to stay. It turned out the life of 'servitude' Silas had spoken about was a life doomed to minor lord instead of being a leader in the clan. Tristian could understand for the life of him what the fuss was about.

Vladimir was a strange character, he decided. After a long discussion with the founders of the school and Saladin, they had forgotten Vladimir's wounds. It landed on Tristian's shoulders to help his dizzy cousin to a spare room since Ulrich had made himself scarce.

Vladimir had said very little to Tristian as he patched him up. He merely grunted at the younger wizard when he had finished cleaning the wound and lay down to sleep.

"Keep your nose clean," was the only words Vladimir had spoken to him since.

"Do you like my dress?" Georgina demanded twirling around for Marguerite. Obligingly Marguerite made a show of studying the dress and ribbons.

"It is very beautiful," Marguerite said kindly. Tristian couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"What about my shoes," Gretchen demanded rudely determined to take Marguerite's attention away from her pouting sister. "They're better than Georgina's shabby dress."

"You're both very beautiful," Marguerite assured the younger witches.

"I know we're prettier than you," Gretchen said sticking her tongue out.

"But we both think Tristian is not good enough for you," Georgina snarled. "We don't like him."

Marguerite stared up into Tristian's face. "'Tis shocking but true," Tristian murmured with a gracious bow. "These fine little ladies don't like anyone in the castle."

"That's because everyone is absolutely horrid," Gretchen announced loudly.

"But we like her," Georgina said pointing to Amrita who was sitting reading nearby. "Perhaps you should like to take points from her, Marguerite… she's pretty."

Gretchen nodded. "Your nose is too big."

Tristian sighed as the twins ran off to annoy Amrita and as Marguerite touched her nose self consciously.

"Perhaps we should dunk those two in the pond," Tristian muttered offering the crook of his arm to the French girl. "Then we'll see whose curls aren't curly enough. That was the insult of the day to Ophelia."

"Did they really say all that… to me?" Marguerite murmured shocked.

"Woe to you. You have half a brain on your female shoulders," Tristian replied his cheeks reddening. "Those two will never do anything useful and I think you are looking stunning in your apprenticeship robes today."

Marguerite snorted indigently. "No female figure looks good in robes."

Tristian looked slyly over to Marguerite who seemed to be valiantly fighting a blush. "… and you fight well."

Marguerite stop short causing Tristian to also halt in his tracks. "I fight good, is that all you can up with?"

"On short notice," Tristian muttered finding that his skin on his cheeks were now burning.

"'Tis only teasing," Marguerite assured him. "I'm only doing weaponry to annoy my mother. She wants me to be a proper lady like women in France… and of course since I haven't got an offer for my hand... she's been unbearable. You would think I was destined for the whorehouses on the Thames the way my mother goes on."

It was Tristian's turn to snort.

"What about your parents? What were they like?"

Tristian's mind reeled for a moment her questions were loaded. "I never knew my parents." He replied thinking of Lily and James.

"Oh. But you're close to Lord Godric now? Half of Gryffindor house is expecting you to convert. Merlins know why Lord Godric is so proud of you…"

Tristian laughed nervously. "I have no answers to your queries.

"Shame," Marguerite commented lightly as they came to a halt by Amrita's side. The pretty Spanish girl was grimacing openly at the twins and Tristian was wondering how they had insulted someone else in such a short time.

"Tristian, Maggie good morning."

"Oh don't flirt with him," Georgina whined. "Do you have any pride?"

"Papa says he's a filthy, mangy, illegitimate bastard sired in a bed of…"

"Lovely day," Marguerite said barging over the ranting of the twin girls, making them pout identically.

"Yes, 'tis," Amrita sighed shutting her book delicately and glaring at the twins. "If you will excuse me some little pests are bothering me out here I might go read my book in my chambers."

"Of course."

"What's she going on about?" Gretchen whispered to Georgina.

"Should we tell them?" Tristian muttered to Marguerite. "Look you go and I'll handle the girls."

Marguerite gave Tristian a look of admiration before excusing herself. Tristian watched the two Gryffindor girls leave before turning to the twins.

"You've both been misbehaving chronically," he told the sweet little faces staring up at him.

'

'

'

Tristian was furious. The twins had destroyed his chambers, wrecked havoc in the kitchen and had stolen Lord Godric's prize mare all within thirty minutes in which he was summoned to Salazar's chambers.

He had returned to his chambers where he had told the girls to play nicely for a little while to find that his bed cloths had been shred. His curtains pulled down, the fire grate removed, ink smudged through his woollen carpet, his robes thrown about and his fine robe given to him by Saladin had been pinned up on the door and used for target practice with silver cutlery set out for a mid day meal, Tristian was planning to have in the quiet of his own chamber.

Now he was going to miss said meal in order to search for the girls. His searching took him to the kitchens only to find the few house elves assistance and cook crying in the pantry. All the ingredients had been taken down and smashed into piles of goo. Cook's famous apple and rhubarb pies had been used as missiles and were splattered all around the kitchen.

After Tristian had untied the unfortunate cook and assured the house elves that the children would never enter the kitchen again (he was going to kill them when he got his hands on them) he left the kitchen and bumped into Axcel.

"Father's horse is gone," Axcel blabbered quickly wringing his hands in agitation. "His favourite… and grandfather is going to be here by nightfall. Father's going to have a fit… do you know…"

"The twins," Silas said coming up from behind waving a parchment in the air. "The little nitwits have gone after dear papa."

Axcel paled. "We have to go after them...father's horse."

"I'm more worried about my neck," Tristian muttered. "Grandfather Slytherin is going to positively murder me then hand me over to grumpy I'm-better-than-thou Vladimir."

"I have the same fate," Silas muttered you should see the state of father's study. Tristian groaned. If there was one thing other than living family members that Salazar Slytherin was protective of – it was his study. He was famous for his protectiveness of his study. "Tomes and tomes of books vandalised."

"Come on then," Tristian grumbled leading his brothers to the stables and proceeded to tell his brothers what he had found.

The boys saddled their horses and morosely galloped out of the gates. (Goliath was behaving himself better since Tristian had picked up a riding crop).

"They can't have gone too far," Silas shouted over his shoulder as his favourite bay, Augustus charged forward.

'

'

'

"They wouldn't have gone far," Axcel scoffed at Silas' famous last words. "Papa is going to kill us."

Tristian looked up to the darkening sky. They had spent the last few hours trying to find the girls but to no avail. "Lucky me has two fathers to contend with."

"Full moon," Axcel sighed staring at the night sky as a wolf howled in the distance. "We're in trouble."

"We should turn back," Silas grumbled. "We're in deep trouble no matter what we do now."

"Great do you think I will get any last requests?" Tristian muttered irritably. He stopped suddenly as if he heard something.

"Trist?"

"Shhh." Tristian pressed his finger to his lips and remained still in the saddle. A twig snapping confirmed that he had indeed heard something.

"Trist…"

"Move!" Tristian dug his heels into Goliath's side grateful that his horse was taking him seriously. Behind him he heard his brothers swearing and the ominous howl of… Tristian glanced over his shoulder confirming that it was yes: a werewolf that was chasing after them.

Axcel had Octavian moving alongside him at a fluid pace. "Heels down, knees tucked in."

"Yes thanks, Ax, what I really want right now a lesson in horsemanship."

Axcel rolled his eyes and returned his gaze over the twitching ears of Octavian, whose long neck was stretched out in front of him.

A short scream behind shook Tristian's resolve not to look back. Augustus' lay sprawled on the ground, his long strong limbs looked frightening in the dark as the young stallion tried valiantly to stand once more. Silas was on the ground pushing himself backwards as the werewolf bore down on him.

"Si!"

Silas glanced upwards, the whites of his eyes glowing fearfully in the dark. "Go," he mouthed.

Tristian yanked on Goliath's reins, but the large grey was panicked and paid his master's commands no heed. Tristian yanked again to the same result. Sighing he slipped his feet from the stirrups and braced himself as he jumped and rolled to the ground.

Tristian's excellence Quidditch skills allowed him to roll almost immediately to his feet. He unsheathed his sword, which only now he realised he was miraculously wearing, and dashed to Silas' side.

The werewolf seemed stunned by the prospect of a young wizard charging at him with a sword gleaming above his head.

Tristian was sure he saw a moment of lucid thought in the werewolf's eyes and in that dreaded moment he realised this was Malic. True to his Gryffindor nature Tristian stood his ground between Silas and the werewolf.

"Run, Si. Run!" Tristian yelled not daring to look over his shoulder at Silas. "I'll hold him off."

"Are you crazy?" Silas cried back.

"Run!"

"I ruddy well can't," Silas snapped back. "I'm hurt."

Tristian gritted his teeth; his sea green eyes never left the face of the enemy before him.

Galloping hooves momentarily took the werewolf's attention off his cornered prey. A moment later Axcel came charging through the clearing on Octavian. Axcel's silver blade sung through the air as he lent over and dealt a blow on the werewolf's back.

Unfortunately, Axcel's action only seemed to upset the werewolf further into frenzy. It happened to quickly for Tristian… the werewolf leapt at Silas and he flung himself in its path only to find the claws of the creature digging into his back.

Silas and Axcel watched in horror as their brother's body thumped to the ground. Axcel had wheeled Octavian around his sword brandished over his head to deal another blow.

A roaring animalistic sound rent through the air and a second set of hoof beats charged into the clearing. The bicorn, who Tristian had not seen for a little while made his presence known. It roared again in fury as it dipped its crowned head down and charged.

The werewolf seemed to check himself and decided he was outnumbered. Growling the wolf fled into the trees.

Ignoring the presence of the bicorn was of hoofing the ground in great agitation; as if telling the boys exactly how he disapproved, Silas dragged himself over to where Tristian. Tristian glanced up weakly and grimaced, his back was on fire.

"I'm okay," Tristian mumbled thickly.

"Merlin, Trist…" Silas murmured stroking a few strands of hair away from Tristian's face before blurting out many explicatives Tristian had never heard before.

"Language, Silas!"

Silas' head snapped up and he found himself gazing into the hard stare of his grandfather, who was standing where the bicorn was only moments before.

"Merlin. You're an animagus."

Saladin pushed past the gaping Axcel and knelt by Tristian side before ripping the remains of Tristian shirt of his back. He sighed in relief realising Malic's claws had only done minimal damage. Not wasting anytime reprimanding the boys, Saladin pulled a potion vial he kept handy on his person at all times when he realise his nemesis was a werewolf. He used his fingers and pried Tristian's mouth open and forced the nasty mixture down Tristian's throat. He kept Tristian head stoically still and when Tristian's body threaten to cough the mixture back up Saladin forcefully closed Tristian's mouth and pinched his nose.

"Is he a werewolf now?" Silas dared to ask.

"No. The potion will fight the werewolf poison." Saladin sighed heavily. "You three boys are in serious trouble."

Silas winced and glanced away from Saladin's piercing gaze. "Yeah we know."

"Don't dare take that light tone with me young man. My nerves have been frazzled enough. You are both hereby under house arrest."

"Grandfather…" Silas whined. This was worse than he thought.

"Don't push your luck Silas Slytherin!" Saladin snarled threateningly. "You're not too old to go over my knee!"

Silas winced and clamped his mouth shut; his grandfather was notorious for his heavy hand when it was required amongst the younger generation of Slytherins.

"The girls have gone missing," Axcel told Saladin quietly, knowing he was safe from Saladin's Slytherin's heavy hand.

"Those imbecilic little brats have been found," Saladin said between clenched teeth.

"I'm going to kill 'em," Tristian muttered into the forest floor. "I'm going to wring their pretty little necks until they turn blue."

"Unnecessary," Saladin told him briskly. He brought his fingers to his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. By some sort of miracle Goliath appeared between the trees. "Silas double with Axcel," Saladin commanded picking Tristian off the forest floor. "I can't trust whether or not you brother is going to remain conscious."

"What about Augustus?"

Saladin sat Tristian down by a tree and found Tristian's sword. He looked apologetically to Silas before swiftly cutting the bay's throat. Silas stared up at his grandfather his horror clearly shown over his face.

"Sometimes life is damn cruel, Silas," Saladin said in his low voice. "Be thankful it wasn't your throat I had to cut."


	21. The Resitence of the Clans

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Twenty-One. Resistance of the Clans **

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 9****th**** January 1061: 11:23pm **

Axcel shifted uncomfortably in the saddle he was sharing with Silas. He craned his neck around his friends' shoulder and gazed into the gloom. It only seemed like minutes ago when Saladin had raised his fingers to his lips and whistled. The shrill whistle had brought Goliath back, trotting towards them as if he was a faithful, noble steed.

"How is he?" Silas dared ask; when he saw where Axcel was looking but his Gryffindor courage had failed to rally. Tristian was sitting slumped in the saddle in front of Saladin, his head lolled to the side.

"Unconscious," Saladin replied curtly. He hefted Tristian into a tighter embrace and Silas had to admire how strong his grandfather was for an old wizard. "Did you boys even think about consequences of your misadventure would have on your fathers?"

Axcel squirmed guiltily and shook his head. Silas sighed heavily and glanced one way in Tristian's direction.

"If Tristian was turned into a werewolf, which was a close reality, what did you plan on telling us?" Saladin continued in his lordly calm voice. Silas hated that tone. "What were you three thinking taking on a werewolf like that? Silas I had taught you better…"

Axcel winced and nudged Silas in the ribs for him to answer. Silas glared at his sandy haired companion before sighing again in long suffering.

"We didn't plan on meeting a werewolf," Silas muttered contritely. "We were turning back and… Augustus fell and Trist came back to…" Silas pursed his lips tightly remembering those terrifying seconds when the werewolf was almost upon him. He had never been more afraid in his life and in charged Tristian with his defiance and characteristic confidence. He felt shame that his brother had taken the werewolves claws instead of him. It should have been him.

"It should have been me," Silas choked shaking his head. "It should have been me. I would be baying at the moon right now if it weren't for Trist."

Saladin sighed into the mattered black mop of silken hair and squeezed his arms tighter around his unconscious charge. "Full of surprises aren't you?" he murmured almost inaudibly. Tristian breathing hitched for a moment as if he had heard but a moment later his head sagged.

"Will he be alright?" Axcel inquired glancing over. Saladin looked up into the Gryffinodr's large brown-gold eyes that were staring at him hopefully. Innocent: he snorted to himself; innocent as his father.

"He'll be fine," Saladin assured him. "He's lost a bit of blood."

Axcel grimaced at the thought of Tristian's blood covering the forest floor and Saladin's fine robes. He wondered why Saladin hadn't immediately healed his brother and if reading Axcel's mind Silas whispered the answer in Axcel's ear so that Saladin could not hear.

"Grandfather is not much of a healer," Silas murmured. "He's brilliant at everything else but healing is his weakness. Why else would Grandfather's personal servant be an experienced healer?"

Axcel nodded his head wearily to say that he understood. Healing someone when one did not know what one was doing was never a good idea. He learnt that from experience back in the first year of his apprenticeship. His father was not impressed when he had to fix up two young Gryffindors because of his shoddy workmanship.

Axcel's musings were cut short when they entered the courtyard of Hogwarts Castle. It was with a sinking heart that Axcel realised that not only was his father waiting for him; but old Allun Gryffindor. He must have made it to the castle before nightfall. Axcel's hope of getting away with his misadventure without being punished had plummeted.

Axcel dismounted swiftly only to find his grandfather's fingers already pinching his ear painfully. "Ow," Axcel protested, which only made his grandfather pinch harder.

"What's this I hear about you goin' off wandering?" Allun Gryffindor thundered and giving Axcel's ear a slight but painful wiggle.

"Ow," Axcel moaned, he didn't say any more in protest because it seemed that his grandfather was barely holding his temper. He glanced pleadingly to his father. Godric crossed his arms against his chest sternly and glared. Axcel thought that his father's expression was fleetingly compassionate but he wasn't sure what he had seen. Now his father's expression seemed to be saying 'Thank the heavens you're alive! Now come here so I can throttle you!'

Silas dismounted after Axcel and shifted uncomfortably as Salazar approached with his regal air. Salazar's hand cracked against Silas' cheek sending him sprawling.

"What has gotten into you?" Silas winced as Salazar lost his carefully masked anger. Silas stood shakily half expecting to hit once more only to find his father still reprimanding him. "What were you thinking? Were you, Merlin forbid, hoping to end up like you mother, lad?"

"Salazar…" Saladin raised his hand slowly as if to calm his infuriated son. "This is not the time or the manner."

Salazar raised his hand again and laid it gently on Silas' red cheek. "I am so very disappointed in you Silas Slytherin."

"I know," Silas muttered miserably. That was the worse thing about his father's anger – his bitter disappointment.

"If I had lost either of you boys…" Salazar's hand caressed Silas' burning cheek softly he stopped mid sentence however and realised that one of his son's had not been accounted for.

"Tristian's here," Saladin said soothingly pulling his cloak aside. Tristian's head lolled to the side as if he was unconsciously aware that everyone's attention on him.

"Merlin, he's not…"

"Dead?" Saladin watched in morbid fascination as Silas and Axcel both grimaced. "No… unconscious. He would be suffering a fate worse than death if I had not turned up when I did."

Godric glanced over to Axcel and shook his head. "I don't want to know, do I?" Axcel only shuffled out of his grandfather's reach in reply.

"He's survived yet another werewolf attack," Saladin murmured and lowered the unconscious form of Tristian into Salazar's outstretched arms, which made Allun Gryffindor visibly turn green with envy. "Lost a bit of blood but otherwise he should be fine. Take him inside and send me those naughty girls, Salazar."

'

'

'

Tristian groaned loudly as his mind slowly slipped back into the world of consciousness. His back felt like it was on fire and he twisted to find a more comfortable position only to feel the sting of tendrils of pain making their way up his back. Even in his sleep fogged state he realised he was best off staying as he was: prone face down.

"Here…" cool gentle fingers covered in some type of goo rubbed his back gently. "Grandfather will commit homicide if he found out but…"

"Si?" Tristian murmured weakly.

"Who else?"

Tristian moaned and buried his nose into the pillow.

"Grandfather allowed Ulrich only to partially heal you. He thought that if you had to heal the muggle way the 'inconvenient' pain might teach you not to take on a werewolf again or deliberately jumping off a galloping horse. I mean what were you thinking? Jumping off Goliath when he was in full gallop, you could have broken you neck or collar bone or trampled."

"Lesson learnt," Tristian muttered darkly. "And I was thinking of keeping my brother from becoming Malic's early midnight snack."

"Thanks."

"Going to kill the twins," was Tristian's only coherent reply. "Massage lower… not… there… little lower."

Silas laughed gently and rubbed circles on Tristian's lower back, making his brother squirm weakly. "The twins of terror have been punished," Silas continued cheerfully in the hopes of cheering Tristian up.

"Oh?"

"Grandfather gave them both one hell of a spanking. Would have scared Merlin's socks off! I didn't know Grandfather would spank a girl… I just thought it was us unfortunate boys that saw that side of him. Vlad had spanked them earlier apparently but that didn't make any difference to Grandfather."

Tristian's shoulders shook with a giggle.

"The girls have to clean up father's study without magic. Then Vlad will supervise them cleaning up your chambers, that's why father has let you sleep in his bed. He didn't want you to do any of the cleaning and he…"

"What?"

"He didn't want you to be upset," Silas gabbled as if Tristian would take the news better if he was told quickly.

"I had already seen what they've done, why would I be upset?" Tristian turned his head around to stare at his Slytherin brother. "What aren't you saying?"

"The girls had found your mother's journal…"

"No… I'm going to kill them," Tristian made to rise but Silas laid a hand on his shoulder. "Grandfather and I have fixed most of it but some of your photographs are…"

"Ruined… I'm going to kill them." Tristian buried his nose into his pillows and pretended that his eyes weren't misting up with tears.

"I believe you've stated as much. I however suggest slow demeaning torture," Silas said dryly placing his hand on Tristian's head as his shoulders tellingly shook. "Sleep if you can, you've still got to go through with a lecture from two fathers and two grandfathers."

"_Stay with him…" _Silas hissed in parseltongue and let Sidonius, who had remained unusually quiet slither down his arm and onto the bed. Silas watched the small green snake weave his way around the bedding to curl up by Tristian's face. His small forked tongue flickered against Tristian's ear.

"_Master Squishy…"_ Silas heard the snake hiss before he left the chamber with a shake of his head.

'

'

'

Tristian awoke a second time to find Salazar standing over him with his hand buried in his dark silky hair. He barely registered that Salazar had a large female cobra wrapped around his neck like a scarf before he lost consciousness again.

'

'

'

Silas handed Tristian's diary back gingerly with an apologetic smile. Tristian took the book and flipped through the pages. Silas and his grandfather had done a good job fixing the diary but that didn't stop him from shaking with anger.

Stalking into his rooms Tristian ignored Silas' half hearted attempts to calm him down. Vlad was sitting in one of Tristian's arm chairs watching the twins miserably clean up his chambers.

"Afternoon, cousin," one twin simpered. Tristian rolled his eyes he had been warned the twins would try and coax their way out of trouble by Salazar.

"Greetings Vlad," Tristian murmured glaring at the two girls who were smiling at him winningly.

Vlad grimaced back at Tristian and turned his attention to his younger sisters who scrambled back to work. Tristian sighed heavily and rested back into a spare arm chair. After a proper berating from Allun, Godric, Salazar and Saladin Tristian was surprisingly exhausted.

Godric had resorted to yelling and ended up in an emotional state. Tristian was sure his rib cages were bruised from Godric's over enthusiastic hugs. Salazar on the other hand was quite calm and collected but Tristian could not help but feel like a naughty, silly toddler. Even the female cobra, Maxina had a go at berating him much to Sidonius' pleasure.

"Young Cousin," Vlad murmured back in greeting; his gruff voice bringing Tristian from his reverie.

"He's rude," one twin said to the other.

Vladimir shocked Tristian by growling at his sisters and ordering them curtly back to work.

"He's just a common, alleviate bastard who was sired…."

"You have no idea what you are talking about little girl," Tristian snapped contemptuously, holding his hand back to stop Vladimir intervening on his behalf.

"You're just jealous!"

"Jealous! Ha!" Tristian said throwing his head back and glaring at the girls in disdain. "Jealous that I'm not some stuck up little brat who doesn't give a damn about anyone else, who has a bad reputation and only leaves destruction in their wake? I don't need to be jealous of little upstarts like you."

"You're nothing…"

"Gretchen," Vladimir growled.

"Really?" Tristian started standing ignoring the growling of his elder cousin. "The only talent you have is to make everyone…" Tristian paused and glanced at his elder cousin not really wanting to get on Vlad's bad side. "… everyone doesn't want to be around you. You've just about offended everyone in the castle…"

"Amrita's nice."

"She didn't want to be near you though," Tristian pointed out. "She left because she couldn't stand to be around you."

"Tristian…" Saladin was standing at the door. Obviously Tristian was late for his lessons with his grandfather.

"No," Tristian said firmly. "Let them hear the truth of the matter."

For a moment Vladimir and Saladin was shocked at Tristian's defiance. But Tristian had only eyes for the girls.

"You burned photographs of my family. You ruined the only things I had of my 'foster' parents. You've haven't shown me anything to show me you are worthwhile people to know… and I could say that for just about everyone in the castle."

"Look at this room," Vladimir started joining Tristian on his tirade. "You've ruined the Acromantula silk sheets and you both know how expense and rare they are, look at the carpets and the walls and all of Tristian's robes."

The girls seemed to be in shock that their beloved brother had gained on them with Tristian. They glared around the room miserably and back that their brother.

The girls glanced at each other. "You're saying we're bad people?"

Tristian felt a stirring of pity as he turned on his heel and stomped from the room. "What I'm saying is you haven't shown me otherwise. Prove it. Show me the good girls… not these two horrid, spoilt, evil little girls."

Saladin followed in Tristian's wake, waiting inevitably for his grandson to break the steady silence between them.

"I'm sorry milord if I have offened you. I was just so…"

"Angry?"

Tristian nodded sadly and slowed his paces so that his grandfather could catch up with him. Saladin stood by him and contemplated him in silence before wrapping one arm around his shoulders.

"Now you might have an idea how I feel when either of my grandsons gets themselves into trouble."

Tristian opened his mouth to protest but Saladin hushed him. "The difference being is that I've already meet the good Tristian."

Tristian sighed and murmured an apology. "If you try something stupid again in the near future I swear I'll have to… Badger?"

Tristian's head shot up immediately and spotted Lord Hufflepuff's furry creature waddling up the hall way. Saladin stared at the animal that snuffled slowly down the carpeted halls.

"Badger?"

As it turned out Saladin found that there was already a meeting of Elders in his chambers. He entered briskly with Tristian trotting behind carrying a disgruntled Badger.

There were already six older wizards gathered and arguing. Lord Hufflepuff, whom Tristian recognised immediately stood and welcomed Saladin into his own rooms.

"We've heard your concerns about Malic and we've come."

Saladin nodded his head in his regal manner and turned to the others that had gathered. Old Allun Gryffindor sat gruffly in one corner, looking slightly out of place among the soft silks of the other clan lairds. He was a fierce fighter, a brilliant taction and Tristian's other grandfather. Though the others felt Allun Gryffindor was intruding on their territory none voiced their opinions on the Gryffindor clan. Most knew that Saladin highly favoured Godric son of Allun. Others knew of Allun's legendary temper.

The Clan Lord next to Hufflepuff looked highly affronted to Allun's presence. Even after all these years Archibald Ravenclaw had no respect for the Gryffindor clan. Although in retrospect Archibald Ravenclaw rarely held any respect for anyone.

Hamish McCallow was glancing around at Allun with something of awe and curiosity. The Scots had always favoured warriors over the rich overlords.

Julian Dupont, the father of Marguerite Dupont, was glaring warily at Ravenclaw and Gryffindor decidedly uncomfortable with an English Laird and old veteran warrior.

Myles Murdoch was seemingly attaching himself to Ravenclaw's opinions. He was the youngster in the group and was desperately trying to secure himself in the other clan Laird's eyes. There was something suspicious about Myles' elder brother Hartley's death…

Behind Saladin, Tristian placed Badger on the floor. The shy creature waddled around the room until he was sitting on Hufflepuff's feet. He reared himself onto his hind feet with difficulty and started to beg. "No sweet meats," Hufflepuff murmured lovingly to his furry friend, much to the disgust of Archibald Ravenclaw. Myles Murdoch mimicked Ravenclaw's expression much to the amusement of McCallow who playfully nudged Allun who smiled thinly.

"Should I go?" Tristian whispered into Saladin's ear.

Saladin turned thoughtfully to Tristian and then shook his head. "Stay, listen, learn." Saladin glided through the room without a second through and took the only remaining chair. Tristian stood behind his grandfather's chair and prepared to be an unseen listener.

"Your nephew from Wales I take it," Murdoch sneered in Tristian's direction before shaking his head in mock sorrow. "The Welsh could never take care of their own whelps."

Tristian flinched and bit his tongue so that he was not tempted to make a sassy reply.

Murdoch's comment turned Archibald Ravenclaw's attention to him. "Untalented barbarian no doubt."

Tristian swallowed heavily and to his embarrassment he felt his cheeks redden.

"Arch! But barbarians make all da betta warriors!" McCallow scowled in the direction of the Ravenclaw and Murdoch camp. "Although the bairn tis a bit small. Diplomat then?"

Tristian was thankful that someone seemed to be standing up for him. The look that Ravenclaw gave McCallow indicated that he thought McCallow and his fellow Scots were barbarians too!

"He'll grow," Allun muttered gruffily. "Not all warriors are all brawn and no brain. Just look at my da."

"Yes," Ravenclaw snorted. "A farm boy with a pitchfork."

Allun glared at Archibald seemingly appalled that someone would insult his beloved da and Tristian's namesake. He bit his tongue in a similar fashion to Tristian to stop him from telling Archibald what he would like to do with a pitchfork at the present moment.

"Badger likes him!" Hufflepuff said cheerily feeding Badger a sweet meat even though he had told the creature 'no' only moments ago. Ravenclaw stared at him in disgust.

"'e will be a heartbreaker with ze ladies," Dupont added as if that was the most important point to make. "Ah look how 'e blushes so prettily."

"Yes, now you've all made your opinions known we need to get to the business at hand," Saladin said dryly restraining himself from looking behind to see just how red Tristian's face was.

"Is it true then? The Welsh Wizarding Community Council has been well…"

"Destroyed?" Saladin finished for Murdoch. "Yes."

"Survivors?" Ravenclaw hazard.

"None."

"And Malic is after you?" Ravenclaw snarled at Saladin. "So you are asking for my clan's help."

Saladin shook his head. "Considering your daughter is a founder of this school… Malic is after you too."

"Basically if you're against him you're a target," Allun Gryffindor gruffily muttered. "Meaning we must fight on a united front."

"What would you know, old man, my clan can survive without your help?" Murdoch snarled.

"More than you, you arrogant little pup. Always has it been the Gryffindors laying their lives on the line while you dine in peace in your pampered state," Allun snarled back.

"Aye," McCallow agreed seemingly happy at the possibility of a fight. "Everyone knows Ravenclaws and Murdoch's get fat on profit and the Gryffindors save yer people for yer."

Tristian had to bite his tongue from stopping himself at laughing at the incredulous look on Ravenclaw's pointed face.

"Yes well, Malic is likely to have an army of other magical creatures. We must disband their army or destroy their 'herds.'"

Tristian felt his stomach fall to the ground. "Surely not all magical creatures, sir?" he blurted before he could stop himself.

"They are a threat, Tristian," Saladin growled in warning, which Tristian pointedly ignored.

"Should they destroy us to… we are more a threat to them then they us."

"Tristian enough, you know not of what you speak, if the centaurs, werewolves, vampires and the like are not with us they are against us. It is us or them."

"But…"

"Get out!" Saladin snarled.

Tristian stood like a deer caught in wand light, realising what he had just done. He was aware that he had embarrassed his Slytherin grandfather and to a lesser degree his Gryffindor grandfather. So he turned on his heel and ran from the room.


	22. Black Haired Foal

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Twenty-Two. Black Haired Foal **

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 10t****h**** January 1061: 5:46pm**

Tristian darted from the room and raced towards his own chamber forgetting completely that most likely Vlad and the girls were still there. He hit the door like a whirlwind and slammed it behind him making the occupants of the room jump. Realising his folly, Tristian sadly grinned in apology before blurting out the first thing that came to his mind. "Is Axcel here?"

Vladimir looked up at Tristian quizzically before turning away leisurely and ushering the girls back to work.

"Something wrong, cousin?" Vladimir demanded in a hushed voice. "You are supposed to be with our lord grandfather."

"Clan elders are here in a meeting…" Tristian let his sentence hang. There was no way he was going to admit to Vladimir that he had been sent from the room in disgrace. That would just be humiliating. "So I am now looking for Axcel…" he continued as if it explained everything.

Vladimir looked like he didn't believe him. However the elder Slytherin shook his head and mumbled, "Try the stables."

"Course," Tristian murmured with a sheepish smile. "The stables." Backing away hurriedly he wrenched the door open and darted from the embarrassing presence of his cousins.

Tristian let his feet guide him towards the stables as predicted Axcel was already there tending to Octavian.

Axcel glanced up at Tristian's hasty entry.

"Will they honestly kill all the magical creatures if they don't join us?" Tristian blurted running his hand through his hair.

Axcel blinked slowly and placed the brush he was using on the side of the stall before facing Tristian fully. "Why are you asking?" Axcel sounded suspicious. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," Tristian answered honestly since he didn't already have a plan. "And just answer the damn question."

"Well if they take arms against us then yes they will be treated as enemies," Axcel said calmly.

"And if they remain neutral?"

Axcel snorted and turned back to Octavian who was demanding to be brushed again. Tristian stepped further into the stables and stopped by Goliath's stall. The large grey snorted in heavily as if breathing his master in before head butting Trsitian's shoulder playfully.

"And if they remain neutral?" Tristian repeated.

"Trist, don't let this bother you," Axcel murmured. Tristian raised his eyebrows and Axcel lost patience and threw the brush to the side. "Look, it is widely accepted that werewolves, merpeople, centaurs, vampires and a myriad of other magical and unsavoury creatures will never help to be a benefit to wizarding kind. There's a reason that Malic is so powerful and terrifying and that is… well he is their overlord. And the magical creatures are happy to pit themselves against us."

"Has the wizarding world ever tired to reconcile with magical creatures."

"Of course not!" Axcel laughed jovially as he pulled an apple from his jerkin and feed it to Octavian who was still demanding attention.

"Thanks," Tristian said backing out of the stall quickly. "That's all I needed to know."

"Don't do anything stupid or I daresay our dear father will have to nail you into your chambers!"

But Tristian didn't hear the warning he was already across the other side of the courtyard. Luckily he didn't meet anyone in the halls and since the girls were busy in his chambers and he didn't want to have to answer any uncomfortable questions. Instead he headed for Axcel's rooms and entered when he was sure no one would spy him.

Tristian went to his brother's cupboard and burrowed a thick travelling cloak, which was a little broad around his shoulders since his brother was bigger than him. Thinking twice about leaving the castle without notifying someone Tristian decided to leave Axcel a note – hopefully it wouldn't be found until he was well on his way.

Dinner wasn't until an hour and a half away and his grandfathers were upset with him so Tristian figured it would be unlikely anyone would want to seek him out before then.

Tristian bundled the cloak under his arm and swaggered from his brother's rooms just as the evening classes had finished. He slipped amongst the students with a confident air and walk unhurriedly towards the kitchens, where he swiped a pie or two when the cook was not looking before heading out of the servant's back entry.

'

'

Tristian trudged along the forest path feeling not for the first time in his life that he had indeed done something rather daring and foolish. His throat was dry with just the mere thought of having to face his grandfathers and fathers again. It was too late to return to the castle as if nothing had happened. He was sure his absence would have been duly noted by now.

'

'

Axcel returned to his chambers with only a few moments to spare to clean up before dinner. He hurriedly tore of his horse smelling garments and chose another robe before washing his hands and face thoroughly and tying back his wavy hair.

Axcel had wondered about Tristian's strange conversation with him earlier and therefore had made some discreet inquiries of why his brother was acting so odd. He had heard from Silas who had heard it from his ranting grandfather when he was eavesdropping that Tristian had once more overstepped the boundaries with his ever present opinions. He also heard what the debate had been about – magical creatures and their roll in the war.

"Bright lad," Silas had mimicked his grandfather's stern appraisal perfectly. "But by Merlin can he not, not thinking or speak when he disagrees. Or better yet learn some discretion."

"Evidently he has Gryffindor's hasty nature," Silas had replied in his father's voice and winking at Axcel – who soundly punched his Slytherin counterpart playfully.

"He befuddles me, Salazar. Oh, how I agonise over him. Always so eager to do the right thing in the wrong manner and landing himself in mortal peril…" Silas continued grinning mocking a faint into a chair.

Axcel appreciated snickered. "That just about describes our dear brother."

Silas grinned. "I think that both of our grandfathers are keen to betroth him quickly. They think that might settle him down."

Axcel had snorted and sauntered to his chambers to wash up for dinner. "Unlikely."

Axcel snickered at the thought of his father and Salazar Slytherin debating over the perfect bride for his brother. He couldn't help but burst into gales of laughter tyring to imagine his grandfather and Saladin Slytherin trying to negotiate the best allegiance. Most likely Tristian would refuse to acknowledge any of it – his brother was an odd character with some very strange notions indeed.

Wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes Axcel noticed a piece of parchment left on his pillow with his name on it. Noticing there was no wax seal Axcel unfolded the parchment and stared to read much to his horror.

Axcel scrunched the note up in his fist and dashed down to the Great Hall. How could he have been so stupid as not to realise what Tristian's questions were leading to? Why had he not gone straight to his father or Merlin forbid Lord Slytherin?

Before Axcel could slam the great doors open some grabbed his arm and wrenched him backwards.

"What are you doing?" Henry Rutherford demanded. "Do you want to embarrass your lord father and lord grandfather?"

Axcel started and stared at the older Gryffindor.

"The elders from the clans are here, including Lord Ravenclaw."

Axcel mentally groaned and straightened up his robes and smoothed his hair. He could not approach the head table without embarrassing his father but on the other hand could he gamble with waiting to informing his father of Tristian's note? The Ravenclaws had always degraded the Gryffindor family…

Making up his mind Axcel stepped through the doors with a firm resolve. Instead of greeting his fellow Gryffindors he marched himself confidently, as he could in the circumstances, and bowed stiffly to his father who had raised his eyebrows at his son's audacity.

"A missive for you, lord father," Axcel said holding out the scrunched parchment with his face to the floor.

"Lord Father, indeed," Axcel heard Archibald Ravenclaw huff.

Godric took the parchment from Axcel's quivering hand and with one last stern look at his son turned his eye to the parchment.

'_Axcel,_

_I'm quite resolved to negotiate with the magical creatures. I can see were all the problems of the wizarding world stem from – perhaps this is the best. _

_Don't bother covering for me. I guess I'm in quite a bit of trouble already. No use your head rolling as well._

_Trist.' _

Axcel watched as his father's stare at the parchment became a furious shade of crimson and was dearly thankful it was not he that had earned his father's ire. The next moment his father turned pale as the thought of what Tristian had actually done set in.

Godric glanced up at Axcel who shivered despite himself, for a fraction of a second Godric's gaze softened. "Thank you Axcel you may return to your dinner. If your lordships will excuse me it seems that my attention is needed elsewhere."

Axcel turned back just in time to see his father slip the parchment into Salazar's hand. Very slowly the young Gryffindor took his seat and stared at the roast pork on his plate. He watched as Salazar read the parchment inconspicuously his face remaining coldly impassive before turning it over to his own father.

Axcel watched his stomach plummeting at the two Slytherins took their leave from dinner early. This did not bode well for Trist.

'

'

It was nearly midnight by Tristian's estimate before he allowed himself to slump down beside a rough bark tree. What had he been thinking? He knew nothing of the wilds or the creatures in the forest. He didn't even know if he was heading in the right direction.

Tristian swore that he only closed his eyes for a moment. He was so tired, so very tired. But when he blinked his eyes slowly the shadows seemed to have shifted and he could not remember what direction he had taken or where he was heading.

Tristian stretched and took a few sleepy steps to gaze at his surroundings. The next moment a hand darted from the darkness and clamped firmly over Tristian's mouth. He was pulled tightly against something's chests. His hands were grabbed and deftly tied behind his back.

"Scream not human," a voice above his head demanded sharply. "Or I will introduce you to the sharp end of my knife."

Tristian nodded quickly everything had happened so fast that his mind had barely registered the danger before the fight was over. It was hopeless to resist.

At more movement entering the clearing Tristian let his gaze slide up to the face of his capturers. Centaurs, Tristian realised with a jolt and they didn't look too pleased to see him.

"What is your business here human?" a particularly nasty dark centaur demanded.

The hand was moved away from Tristian's mouth experimentally and Tristian gazed back at the centaurs. Now that he was amongst them he did not know what to say.

"I came against counsel to speak with your people as equals," Tristian said clearly. A murmur of surprise erupted from the gathered centaurs.

"As equals," a blonde centaur mimicked. "Tell me human do you have the intelligence and the gift to read the stars and the future, or a vampire's quick reflexes, or breathe under water or a werewolf's keen sense of smell?"

"No," Tristian muttered not sure he liked the sudden change of direction.

"What prey makes you think you are equal to any of the 'magical creatures' human?"

"I…" Tristian's voice failed him.

"Fickle horrible little two legger. There is nothing special about your race and you dare to trespass on our land to speak as 'equals.'"

"I'm sorry if I had offended you that wasn't my aim…"

"I'm sorry if I had offended you," the dark centaur mimicked with a braying laugh. "You are far beneath this company human. Fit perhaps for slavery when the wizarding world is crushed beneath our hooves and humans driven out of the magical communities. Or perhaps a blood bank for vampires or fish food for merpeople or food for dragons."

"You can't be serious!" Tristian gasped. "Our races may be different but inside we are the same."

The centaurs did not in fact look impressed. "We'll take him to Malic."


	23. Ware, The Werewolves

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Twenty-Three. Ware, the Werewolves**

**Forbidden Forest, 11t****h**** January 1061: 1:14am**

Tristian gaped at the centaurs in horror. Somehow his brilliant scheme to save the wizardring world from its ancient vices didn't seem to be panning out in the way he had originally planned it.

"Please," Tristian cried as he was dragged backwards. "I just want what is best for both of our races."

The centaurs seemed wholly unimpressed by Tristian's plaintive cries. His wrists were firmly grabbed and he was forced to mount a large fierce looking bay. As another precautionary measure the centaurs tied his waist to his captive.

"I am Felix," the bay centaur on whose back Trsitian was sitting said craning his neck to look at his charge. Tristian smiled weakly. Perhaps his situation was not wholly bad. His hopes were dashed in the next second when the centaur continued his introduction. "I can kill crush a grown man's skull with one hand."

Tristain could not help but stare agape at the clawed hand held in front of his nose for emphasis. "Lovely, charming in fact," Tristian mumbled to assure his captor that he was duly impressed.

The centaur stared at Tristian a little longer with his all knowing stern stare before nodding to the others. With a bellow that sounded somewhat like a stallion in a rage and a lion's roar the centaurs galloped further into the forest, taking a forlorn Tristian with them.

It would be a ride that Tristian would never forget. It was nothing like riding Ronan in his first year, or a threstal, hippogriff or even a moody Goliath. Tristian bit down on his tongue so that he would not cry out in horror as he was jostled about and hit with numerous branches. He would not show the centaurs any weakness.

'

'

'

Tristian was not at all sure if he was fortunate or unfortunate that Malic was not at the camp at the time the centaurs and galloped through. The centaurs had allowed the vampires and werewolves hassle him but otherwise he remained physically unharmed. He wasn't sure how long that was going to last – not with the crazed lookes the vampires were shotting his direction every few minutes.

"Just one little bite?" one vampire whined. "He does look juicy."

Tristian raised his chin definitely and glanced away from the sickening red gleam. It was the third such comment in the last ten minutes. He was not going to show his jailers any weakness.

"Such a sweet young pup," an older vampire murmured winking horridly at him. "So young and pretty."

"Pretty?" Tristian yelped indigently forgetting his self imposed vow of silence. "I'm not _pretty._"

The vampire hummed and licked his lips in reply before sauntering away and calling off his friends. Tristian watched in dejected silence as the vampires left with disappointed looks over their shoulders and muttering about how they wanted to taste him first.

When he was sure he was alone Tristian let out a shuddering sigh and leaned against the tree to which he had been roughly yet securely tied to. Even though he knew his situation wholly and completely useless Tristian wriggled and struggled for a moment against the biting tightness of his bonds.

"Struggle will help you not, little foal."

Trsitian started and glanced around. He had thought he was very much alone but in the gloom a huge black centaur was regarding him solemnly.

"What do you want?" Trsitian snarled in a voice that sounded braver than what he was feeling.

The centaur stepped forward but his dark wise eyes never left Tristian's face. Tristian realised with a shudder this centaur was much larger than any of the others that he had seen. Despite the coldness in the air the centaur's chest was bare but he showed no signs of discomfort. He seemed older and stronger than his counterparts.

Tristian could only watch in trepidation as the large magical creature approached him steadily. "I am Einar, son of Narain, chief of the free centaurs of the fair country of Wales," the centaur said before surprising Tristian by kneeling so that they were now face to face.

A coarse large hand cupped Tristian's cheek. "You are cold, little foal."

Tristian pursed his lips and the centaur sighed heavily pulling at a long knife and cutting Tristian's bonds. "There is little I can do to help you; but come we must go swiftly."

Einar pulled Tristian to his feet and wrapped him quickly in a blanket and rubbed his arms. "Frail little creatures you humans," Einar mumbled before turning around. "On my back, my colt and I'll take you from this camp."

Barely registering what was actually happening; Tristian curled his fists around the blanket and scrambled onto the back of Einar. Einar stepped forward slowly and Tristian swayed on his perch. "Arms around my waist…"

Tristian obeyed and closed his eyes. Einar was right, he was cold, stiff and very tired and the gentle rocking of Einar's gait was lulling him to sleep.

"You are wrong, colt," Einar said suddenly as they melted into the dark trees. Tristian's head darted up with the suddenness of being spoken to. "You are a pretty little thing."

Tristian snorted in reply and leaned his cheek against Einar strong back. "We centaurs pride ourselves on our wisdom our intellect and yet and it takes a human foal to have the audacity to tell us we are no better than humans. Not such a useless creature after all."

Tristian sighed heavily. "'tis was folly."

"Perhaps so, perhaps not. Where there is free will… every race has good and evil individuals. Every race has its own beauty."

"I thought that… I suppose."

"Not all magical creature clans support Malic. I don't but Donathon son of Gunther, chief of the centaurs of this forest does…"

Tristian lifted his head in hope. "I did not think it was possible that all…"

"Now hush and learn this, foal. Let the magical creatures sort out their own politics."

"You will be treated as the enemy by…"

"I am aware, foal. We however, must fight own battles. Now I must leave you here."

Tristian glanced around at the forest glumly. He had no idea where he was, in which direction was Hogwarts and how far he had yet to go. Einar offered his hand and pulled the sleepy young wizard from his back.

"Continue it the direction we were going and you will find yourself in Hogsmeade. And take this." Einar tucked a small hunting knife into Tristian's hand and with a quick slap on Tristian's bottom, before turning around and leaving the young wizard to defend for himself.

"Great."

'

'

'

**Forbidden Forest, 11t****h**** January 1061: 6:56am**

"That boy isn't going to know what's hit 'em when I find him," Godric growled sending a glowering look over to Salazar.

Salazar huffed yet another sigh and plunged his hunting knife in the trunk of the nearest tree. Godric hadn't stop muttering promises of homicide, captivity or bodily harm on Tristian's head since they began their trek to find the wayward wizard.

"I wish I could say he was your son," Salazar muttered dryly leaning over the branch. "Where did the boy think he was going? His tracks don't make any sense."

"Obviously Trist didn't know exactly know where to find the centaurs or vampires," Godric replied standing over Salazar's shoulders and shook his head at the tracks. "At least he was polite enough to give a clear trail of where he has been."

Salazar snorted contemptuously. "We've been going around in circles."

Godric grimaced and rubbed his beard. "Better he be lost than found by the centaurs. I'm going to kick his scrawny backside the whole way home."

"And no doubt nail him into his chamber."

Godric raised his eyebrow. "Oh no I'm not _that _kind."

"Let's hope my father is having a better time deciphering these tracks."

As if on cue Saladin whistled on their right hand side. "His found something," Godric muttered unnecessarily before plunging hurriedly into to bushes. Salazar frowned and took a moment to collect himself before clumsily following his colleague.

They found Saladin standing in the middle of a small clearing. "They've found him."

'

'

'

**Forbidden Forest, 11****th**** January 1061: 7:01am**

Tristian finally collapsed against a smooth bark tree and closed his weary eyes. He had trudged in a straight line as Einar had told him and yet there was no sign of civilisation. Even though the morning air was thick and cold, crowding him like cloak Trsitian reached up and wiped sweat from his brow. He felt strangely cold and hot at the same time. He was tired, hungry and agitated.

Tristian tightened his hold on the blanket the large centaur had given him and curled his legs tighter against his body. Fatigue lapped around his consciousness as he firmly shut his eyes. He would rest only for a minute.

'

'

'

**Forbidden Forest, 11t****h**** January 1061: 7:05am**

Godric stared in horror at the tell tale signs of a struggle on the forest floor. "No it cannot be."

"I found this also." Saladin's stern voice seemed to be coming from afar. Godric blinked his eyes open to see Saladin holding up the shaft of an unmistakeable; undeniable centaur arrow.

To Godric's left, Salazar hissed sharply and shook his head. "He could still be alive."

Godric clenched his fists against his sides and closed his eyes once more. He dared not hope that Tristian by some miracle was yet alive. Donathon and his charming herd had made it quite clear what they would do with wandering humans.

Godric shook his head grief stricken and clutched at his burning heart. No one had commented on Salazar's remark that Tristian could possibly be alive. But Godric knew that neither Salazar nor Saladin had much hope in finding the boy.

"I want to find the body," Godric stated.

Saladin and Salazar turned to stare at him so he continued, "I will not leave without Tristian's body."

"There's hope that…"

"Do you really believe that Salazar Slytherin?" Godric snarled. "Malic wants him dead. The stupid, irresponsible little nitwit walked straight into Donathon or worse – what do you think that they did to him? What do you think Malic wants with him or worse what evils could your brother think up for him?"

Salazar stepped back momentarily stunned as if he had been slapped by his friend. He however regained his composure and laid a gentle hand on Godric's shoulder. His Gryffindor ally never handled grief well. The fiasco after his wife died was testament to that fact.

"Calm down Godric," Saladin commanded in his usual confident tone, even though his stomach felt empty with a certainty that he would never be able to scold Tristian for his disobedience and disrespect. "We don't need hysterics here."

Godric gave Saladin the dirtiest look he could muster under the circumstances. "My boy is as good as dead or worse and you're telling me to _CALM DOWN_!"

Salazar looked wryly at his father who was rubbing his nose in the tell tale sign that he was getting a migraine. Neither of them had a wink of sleep and handling a stressed out Gryffindor was never a pleasant experience when one was sleep deprived – worse if the Gyffindor was sleep deprived also. "You don't happen to have a calming draught?" Salazar hissed at his father glaring at Godric who decided pacing in anxious agitation might soothe this rattled nerves.

Saladin pulled at a potion vial and smirked. "Never leave home without it," handing it to Salazar and watching Godric bristling at them in anger.

Salazar tipped the vial to one side regarding it solemnly and stared down Godric.

"Don't you even think about it Salazar Slytherin," Godric growled whipping out his wand.

Saladin however was quicker. "Stupfy." Godric had time to give Salazar his famous Gryffindor scowl before falling flat on his face on the ground.

"Good boy," Saladin muttered pocketing his wand and shaking his head at Godric's still form.

Salazar rolled Godric over on his back and with deft hands downed the potion down Godric's throat. "Now that wasn't so bad was it?" Salazar inquired to his unconscious colleague.

"One would think you've done this before," Saladin remarked in amusement as Salazar muttered the counter curse and Godric leapt up spluttering and growling.

Salazar was smirking again. "Indeed I have."

Godric opened his mouth to make a rather rude remark, which would have Allun Gryffindor cuffing his ear, when a harsh cry interrupted his train of thought.

'

'

'

**Forbidden Forest, 11****th**** January 1061: 7:22am**

Tristian's eyes snapped open as something grabbed his shoulders and whirled him around and pinning him to another tree. Blinking in rapid succession, Tristian fumbled for the knife that Einar had given him before facing his attackers.

Tristian had thought he could not get into any more trouble. He told himself he should have been ready for anything as a general rule anything that could go wrong will go wrong.

There was only two but even in the dim light of the forest Tristian could see these vampires were not what he was expecting. Their eyes glinted in their sockets as they regarded him hungrily.

"Malic's ponies are not here to stop us from feeding."

Tristian shivered and darted to one side only to find his wrist being with surprising speed and strength. His captor jerked his sharply and Tristian found himself pinned to the floor with two very ravenous vampires approaching.

"Such a handsome, young specimen," one of the vampire pairs said smoothly, licking his lips slowly and running his tongue against his white gleaming fangs. "I bet you taste absolutely delicious."

Tristian grabbed at his knife and swung as the vampire jumped him. The blade cut true and the vampire took a step back and watched him steadily. "That will not save you."

Tristian bared his teeth and used his feet to propel himself backwards all the while waving this absurdly little weapon in the air. It wouldn't help in a second attack even though both vampires were watching him in amusement. He had lost, of that Trisitan was certain, but that did not mean he could not fight back.

Without warning one vampire's head darted up and he sniffed the air. "We're not alone – wizards."

"Then we will finish him quickly," his partner replied grabbing at Tristian's ankle. Trisitian pulled his feet back and kicked the vampire square in the face. It was probably not the wisest thing to do: antagonise one's attackers but Tristian was not going down without a fight.

"Back off!" Tristian cried brandishing his knife as if it was a great broadsword.

Three spells fired overhead and the vampires knowing they were outmatched disappeared with frightening ease.

Panting heavily Tristian let himself collapse back to the ground. He was exhausted.

"Tristian!" A warm calloused hand curled around the hilt of his knife and plucked it gently from his grip. "What on earth did you think that was going to do?"

Tristian didn't open his eyes as he was roughly embraced by strong warm arms. Hands ran through his long mattered hair and a voice spoke by his ear. "By Merlin I thought you were…"

Tristian was held at arms length abruptly and he came face to face with the stormy countenance of Godric. He expected Godric's hard palm against his cheeks before they fell. Tristian bit down on his tongue to stop his plaintive yelp and fought the urgent need to defend himself. Godric was irate, Tristian understood that quite well, but he had never been on the receiving end of such a powerful blow before. Not even Uncle Vernon could compare to Godric's might. He let his head hang in his shame refusing to look anywhere near where he knew Salazar and his grandfather was standing.

"How dare you!" Godric cried at him shaking his shoulders. The lion founder's voice warbled dangerously and his fingertips dug deeper into Tristian's shoulder. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Tristian hung his head further and blinked away the tears before touching his smarting cheeks. He was shivering in Godric's arms and he hated himself for it.

"Answer me!"

Tristian dared to glance up quickly only to see Godric's face had turned from ghostly pale to an angry deep crimson. He tried to will his lips to move to say anything to appease his enraged father – but he felt as if he was frozen. Instead he merely shook his head and made a strangled squeaky sound.

Chin quivering in anger Godric stood abruptly and made his way over to Saladin. "Another calming draught would be fantastic." He glanced back momentarily to where Tristian was still slumped on the ground. He had known he was furious but he had no idea that his anger would provoke him to hit Tristian quite so hard.

Godric uncorked the calming draught that was handed to him and repressed a shudder as he realised his blow had split Tristian's lip. He winced as he imagined the angry purple bruise that Tristian's alabaster skin would sport in the coming hours.

Immense feelings of guilt crept into Tristian's stomach as he watched Godric drain a vial of calming draught. One glance at Salazar and Saladin told Tristian all he had to know; that he was in more trouble than he could possibly imagine. Not even after the twins running away had Saladin been so furious in his silent stoic manner.

"I'm sorry," Tristian murmured knowing in his heart that it was not enough.

Godric glanced sternly over at him and shook his head. "Sorry isn't good enough this time, Tristian." Godric looked away determinedly into the tree line before walking off. "Bring him; I can't deal with him here."

Tristian didn't think it was possible to feel any worse then he did in that moment. But Godric's words echoed in Tristian's mind like a judge handing down a sentence. He wanted to stand and chase after Godric and tell him how sorry he really was then perhaps Godric would be able to forgive him.

Tristian barely registered Salazar taking a firm grip on his upper arm and dragging him to his feet. He wavered on the spot only wanting to sink back to the forest floor in despair.

Salazar draped the blanket over Tristian's shoulders silently and with one arm around his shoulder guided him in the direction in which Godric had left.

"What have I done?" Tristian murmured to himself. "What have I done?"


	24. The Sound of Fury

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Twenty-Four. The Sound of Fury**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 11****th**** January 1061: 11:03am**

Tristian had felt like a condemned prisoner being marched to his execution. Not one word had been spoken since Godric had stormed off in fury. Salazar's hand rested on Tristian's shoulder as if to stop him from running off. And worse still, Saladin hadn't even spared Tristian a glance.

Tristian glanced up miserably through his fringe where he had been seated and sighed heavily. Saladin stood rigidly to the side his hands clasped behind his back. Godric sat in a chair at the far end his head in his hands. Now and then he would shake his head and murmur something in undertones. Salazar's hands rested claw like on Tristian's shoulders, Tristian didn't need to see the snake founder's face to know that he was scowling.

"Are you going to give account for yourself?" Saladin demanded sharply, abruptly turning on his heel and impaling Tristian with his steely gaze. "Or will you keep your silence?"

"I… I…" Tristian stammered all too well aware of his heart which was racing in his chest cavity. "I was a fool."

"A fool of likes that has never been seen," Salazar stated sternly.

Tristian gulped and hung his head.

"Must you continue down this path of self destructive behaviour?" Saladin continued.

Tristian shook his head. "I had not meant…"

"You don't mean a lot of things Tristian," Godric snarled. "And yet the fact remains you seem to be determined to continually cast us aside in favour of charging head first into every trouble that comes your way."

Godric glanced up from his hands and sent an angry glare in Tristian's direction. "I will not longer tolerate your behaviour. This insolence stops now."

"That wasn't my aim," Tristian muttered darkly.

"Then pray tell what your aim was?" Salazar demanded in his dangerous silky tone.

"I… well…" Tristian glanced up at Saladin definitely. "Well with all due respect, sir, what you wanted to do was just plain wrong."

"And so under that guise of that belief you would throw your life at the feet of Malic?" Godric demanded. "Does your family me so little to you? Do I mean so little to you?"

"That's not fair!" Tristian cried trying to take a stand from his seat. Salazar however pushed him back down. "That was not…"

"… your aim?" Salazar interrupted. "Of course not. You after all, only left the safety of the castle even though you are under house arrest from your last escapade to go and have a nice chat with Malic and all things nasty."

Tristian groaned and wrenched himself free of Salazar's grip. He was standing before Salazar could reach out and grab him for his insolence. "What would you know?"

"Mind your tone, boy," Saladin hissed taking a few ominous steps forward. His face was contorted with anger. His eyebrows were knit tightly and his eyes were especially harsh.

But at this point Tristian did not care. He was angry and he couldn't understand the reason why. All he knew he that he wanted to scream and shout and the consequences be damned.

"What would any of you know?" Tristian cried only realising now that he was shaking. "You know nothing of the world I have lived in. You know nothing of the fear that controls the world. You know nothing of what I have lived through."

"TRISTIAN!" Godric shouted from the other side of the room. "Mind your tongue, boy."

Tristian pointedly ignored them in favour of his own ranting. "Not matter the prophecy that has damned me! Thanks to YOU the whole WORLD is screwed… and I am powerless here. Worthless. Everyone I love will be killed in the future because I am here and not there. If I was there then I would be the one sacrificed for the greater good. And who knows I might get lucky and survive. You're worried because I take action? Excuse ME if I find that one hard to believe. Isn't that what you want for me? What is the point of the saviour of the wizarding world if I'm nothing but a pampered coward?"

Tristian stopped here to take a breath and realised that his upper arms had been gripped in Godric's firm grip. He had not realised he had been looking into dark pools the whole time he had been ranting. And it was with those realisations he knew he had spoken secrets to his medieval family he had never wished to reveal.

"Don't you see if I don't fight they're dead?" Tristian murmured to no one in particular. "They're dead because I won't be there."

Godric backed the now limp for of Tristian back into a chair. "A calming draught would be great right now."

"Godric you've already had two!" Salazar admonished but his eyes were glued to Tristian's flushed face.

"Not for me you stupid snake!" Godric snapped making Tristian jump. "For the boy."

"Of course," Saladin muttered shaking himself from his reverie. "Of course. Perhaps a sedative so we can deal with this when he is truly calmer."

Godric grunted and slowly released Tristian's arms which seemed to be glued to the chair. He ran his palm down Tristian's cheeks surprised to find them flushed and red from weeping. He lifted Tristian's chin high enough to see that yes indeed that lad was weeping in earnest.

"A sedative would be fantastic," Godric muttered over his shoulder watching Saladin pulling vials and vials from a hidden cabinet.

"No," Tristian muttered weakly.

"Hush," Salazar reprimanded settling his hands firmly on Tristian's shoulders.

Saladin finally found the vial he was looking for and glanced back at the younger trio.

"I'll escort him back to his rooms," Salazar said. "And I will leave Maxina with him."

Tristian regarded Salazar miserably as the older wizard clasped his upper forearm firmly and brought him to his feet. He swayed a little feeling slightly nauseous with humiliation and embarrassment. He let his head hang limply so that he was staring at the cold rock floor and the expensive plush carpets that decorated his grandsire's rooms. He knew he could expect any sympathy here.

A moment later Tristian was being lead by Salazar like a lamb going to the slaughter. He had the vague idea that he should probably say something but he only managed to moisten his lips with anticipation.

"Father?" Tristian lifted his head up at the intrusion of a new voice. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool. He wobbled only to find that the snake founder was holding him firmly so that he might not fall. "Is he going to be okay?"

Tristian felt the shuddering breath of Salazar's sigh. "He is unharmed," Salazar replied curtly.

Tristian glanced up again, feeling oddly a little drunk and came face to face with the accusing eyes of Silas.

"Of all the stupid Gryffindorish things to do," Silas snapped at Tristian realising perhaps for the first time that yes his brother was indeed conscious. Silas's eyes travelled the length of Tristian's body and once he was satisfied that his brother was not injured turned back to Salazar. "What are you going to do with him?"

"For the moment sedate him," Salazar replied unusually agitated.

As soon as Salazar and Tristian entered Tristian's chambers their ears were assailed by a good tongue lashing from Sidonius. Salazar for his part ignored the small green snake's obvious annoyance and sat Tristian on the edge of his bed.

"You are not under any circumstances permitted to leave your chambers," Salazar said firmly bending down and removing Tristian's boots. "Maxina my loyal snake will notify me if you even think about such a foolish act."

Tristian nodded wearily he had expected as much.

"Here, drink this." Salazar had the rim of the vial pushed uncomfortably against Tristian's lips so that Tristian was obliged to drink the offending liquid.

Tristian was only vaguely aware of Salazar pushing him down into the covers of his bed as the potion began to do its job and he tumbled into darkness.

'

'

'

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 11****th**** January 1997: 12:33pm**

"I just can't believe he's gone," Ron muttered glancing over to Hermione who had her nose in a book but was not reading.

"Look Ron, you have to accept that Harry's not coming home." Hermione snapped her book shut, Hogwarts: A Medieval History, and sighed wistfully. She didn't need to turn to Ron to know he was sitting slumped underneath the erected statue of Harry and was scowling in her direction. They had been arguing lately and it was usually about the missing member of their trio. "As hard as it is logic would say…"

"Merlin's socks woman! Who cares two hoots about logic?" Ron exploded from the other side of the statue. He stood and walked around the rim of the statue. "He will come home."

"Ron the cold hard facts is that…"

"Harry will survive because he must!" Ron snapped back. "He's alive Hermione every bone in my body bloody well knows it!"

"Look be stubborn about it, for all I care," Hermione snapped. "I know you are hurting. Merlin! We are all hurting. But someday Ronald Weasley you have to face the music and dance."

Hermione stomped away flustered, she didn't have the energy to handle Ron's obsession that Harry was alive and needed rescuing.

Ron on the other hand watched Hermione stomp away in a temper. His arms hung loosely at his sides. "But I don't want to dance… my best friend is missing."

'

'

'

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 11****th**** January 1061: 12:49pm**

Tristian's mind wandered in a blank dark fog. A part of him knew he was lying in his comfortable bed but the other half was wandering in darkness.

He felt ill. Like the ground beneath him was swaying under his feet like a ship tossed on an ocean storm. He stumbled and glanced about.

"Hello?"

Even his voice echoed in the darkness.

"Is anyone there?" The question hung in the air about him. "Am I dead?"

For a moment nothing answered him in the darkness then he began to hear voices. They didn't make any sense. The sound lapped around Tristian's body forming a thicker fog. Then as suddenly as the voices began Tristian saw a speck of light which was steadily growing.

He ran towards the light and as he did so it began to rapidly expand into myriads of colours and shapes. Panting he reached his destination and with a pang of homesickness he realised he was standing beside none other than his best friend Ron.

"But I don't want to dance," Ron mumbled glaring into the distance. "My best friend is missing."

"Ron!" Tristian cried happily. "I'm here! It's me. Trist… I mean Harry!"

Ron however didn't seem to be able to hear Tristian's happy cries. Instead the tall red head turned around and face a bronze statue of himself – or more precisely of his 'Harry Potter' self. Bending down Ron placed a gold candle at the base and with a flick of his wand lit the wick.

"I know it's corny mate," Ron muttered. "But I can't believe you are gone."

"I'm not!" Tristian cried, running his hands in front of Ron's face. "I'm here are you blind?"

"Weasel!"

Both Tristian and Ron groaned in displeasure as the one and only Draco Malfoy came sprinting towards him. It took a moment for Tristian to realise that Draco's immaculate hair was flying away at all sorts of angles and his perfect porcelain cheeks were cherry red from exertion.

"Get inside you idiot," Malfoy cried grabbing at Ron's sleeve and jerking him forwards.

"Watch it Malfoy," Ron snarled pulling himself away so that he reeled and fell backwards onto his backside. "I'm not in the mood to talk to you."

Tristian had the impression that Malfoy would have sneered if he felt he had the time. But he was under the distinct impression Malfoy was in a hurry.

"Get up," Malfoy demanded grabbing Ron and hurling the red head to his feet. "Death Eaters."

It was as if Malfoy had said the magic word. Ron paled as he brushed himself off. "You…. _what_?"

"Death Eaters, stupid," Malfoy snarled. "Dark wizards, minions of the Dark Lord, an evil load of old buggers…"

Ron didn't need telling twice. He started in a full scale run towards the entrance hall; Malfoy only a pace behind them. Intrigued by the turn sudden events Tristian followed after them just as spells started firing after them.

"What are they doing here?" Ron snarled as he ran.

Malfoy didn't look too impressed. "Someone let them in for exchange on information on Potty."

"_Don't _call him that."

"So it wasn't you?" Malfoy inquired dodge to the side and narrowly missing the firing line of a particularly nasty hex.

"If I let them in I wouldn't be surprised now would I?" Ron growled grabbing Malfoy around the collar and tossing him forward up the steps as spells continued to fire at them.

"Ron!" Neville came skidding onto the scene. Tristian could see he was a little worse for wear. "We need to get the younger students somewhere safe."

Malfoy was typically brushing himself off. "We need to stop them getting into the castle first."

Ron and Neville glared at the Slytherin. "I hate it when he is right," Ron muttered.

Tristian stood panicked and invisible to his old year mates. It didn't seem like there was anything he could do to help them. There was one thing Tristian feared above failure and that was helplessness. The floor began to tilt and the colour before him melted way and his year mates disappeared in a fading light.

Tristian screamed at his classmates to stay and not leave him in the darkness while vowing to himself to somehow save them. There had to be a way.

The light returned quickly this time changing the scene to the well known astronomy tower. It was now dark outside the stars were already out. Ron, Neville, Draco and Ernie had formed a line on the rim of the tower.

Tristian cautiously peered down and what he saw made his heart stop. Death Eaters by the hundreds had swarmed the outside of the castle.

"We're under siege," Draco commented. Another Slytherin, Blaise, stood stoically by his side.

"Good strategy, Gryff," Blaise mumbled. "Now we just have to keep them at bay."

Neville laughed nervously.

The shadows drifted slowly and parted to reveal Professor Snape looking particularly murderous. "You two shouldn't be doing this," the professor snapped looking at his two Slytherin charges.

Draco snorted. "Neither should you."

Snape merely raised his elegant eyebrows and nodded to the remaining boys.

"Where's Hermione?" Neville inquired in a whisper.

Ron shrugged. "Don't know haven't seen her since the fight early this afternoon."

"They're going to attack soon," Blaise commented dryly. "We won't stand against their attack this time. Nice knowing you." The dark haired Slytherin boy extended his hand in Draco's direction sombrely.

"Quit the melodramatics," Malfoy muttered but Tristian could see the glint of fear in the other boy's eyes.

The sudden but expected assault on the tower occurred so quickly Tristian barely had time to cover his vulnerable eyes. Spell after spell was fired.

Feeling completely stunned Tristian backed away and tried a few defensive spells on his own part only to find his wand was ineffective.

His worry of his magic was short lived as Tristian heard a loud crack.

"BLAISE!" Neville dived for the Slytherin boy effectively knocking him over. Tristian caught the look of pure terror on Neville's face as part of the tower crumbled away and collapsed taking a screaming Neville with it.

"NEV!!"

Tristian froze in horror. He had seen yet another die fight against Voldemort. He turned to were Blaise was sprawled inelegantly on the ground gaping like a fish out of water. "He saved me."

With the partial collapse of the tower the young wizards were now more exposed to the onslaught of the enemy. Seconds later Ernie was hit with a nasty curse and died moments after screaming in agony.

Tristian pushed himself against the wall and scrambled to where Professor Snape was fighting valiantly against his old colleagues. He grasped at his potion professors cloak only to find he couldn't hold anything solid. Instead he laid his palms against the professor's back and pulsed all his magical energy into Snape's wiry body.

Snape confused by the invasion of a foreign signature mingling with his own magic raised his wand and cursed for all his life worth. Instead of the spell uttered from his lips the magic took form as a fire.

Angry tongues of white flame erupted on the edges of the Death Eater's cloaks. Soon enough the tongues grew into leaping bonfires. Not one Death Eater was spared from Tristian's wrath which in turn was fuelled by Snape's magic.

The screams of dying Death Eaters reached Tristian's ears as he collapsed to the floor completely spent.

Snape glanced at his hands in fascination and turned and stared to the exact spot where Tristian was sitting. "Potter…"

It took Tristian to realise that Snape could actually now see him and two recognised him. He weakly smiled up at his ex-professor.

"We made some team, eh?" Tristian mumbled.

Snape took a step forward all the while staring at Tristian in awe. "How can this be?"

Tristian smiled. "Tell them I'm okay and with my medieval family."

Snape nodded numbly and turned towards Ron.

"He's alive," Ron muttered to himself. "I can't believe it, he's alive."


	25. The TimeKeeper

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Twenty- Five. The TimeKeeper **

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 11****th**** January 1061: 06:05pm**

Tristian grumbled wearily into his pillows as he felt unusually weak and drained. His eyes flicked open as a cool palm lay gently across his burning forehead. The action of blinking rapidly brought his surroundings quickly into focus.

Large mocha coloured eyes gazed down at him solemnly. "Milord," Tristian mumbled turning his head to the side.

Godric sighed wistfully and ran his hand down Tristian's cheek which had already turned a nasty purple. "I had not meant to strike you so hard," Godric commented, his deep voice sounded constricted and gravelly. "How are you feeling?"

Tristian blinked his eyes only to find that he was sweating profusely despite the fridget tempetuture. "Exhausted," he managed to mumble after swallowing a few times.

Godric's eyes roamed Tristian prone form before he himself shifted from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Sedatives should not have affected you so. I could not wake you from your slumber as you screamed."

Tristian didn't have the engery to even feel slightly embarrassed by this relevlation. There was something that happened when he was asleep. He struggled to sit up desperate to remember what had accorded while he was unconscious. The fact that he had been screaming was not a shock to him.

"I could not wake," Tristian muttered licking his dry lips.

Godric looked at him perplexed his tanned features seeming a little too pale for Tristian's comfort.

"Perhaps you are allergic to something in the potions," Godric muttered quickly to himself. He stood abruptly before snapping his head back to Tristian's direction quickly. Tristian shifted under his father's troubled gaze. "Yes that must be it. Allergy."

Tristian blinked slowly his mind was still somewhat in a hazy mess. He couldn't see what Godric was making a fuss of. It wasn't as if he had left his chambers.

"It was real," Tristian exclaimed suddenly. "They know I am alive. Snape could see me!"

Godric froze on the spot with the last revelation. He closed his eyes very slowly before sinking back down on Tristian's bed. "You conducted magic through this Snape person."

"Yeah," Tristian smiled dumbly remembering Snape's shock and horror when his magic didn't do what he wanted. "They know I am alive."

"I thought the gift had died." Godric shook his head almost sadly. He glanced back to where Tristian was slumped grinning idiotically. "You must rest."

"Neville was killed," Tristian murmured poker faced as if he had not heard Godric. He made a strange strangled noise as if he only realised another of his friends was dead. "Malfoy fought on our side. And Ernie…"

Godric glanced compassionately down on Tristian before tucking him back down into his covers. "Salazar and I have come up with a suitable punishment."

Godric's statement was enough for Tristian to blink himself out of his reverie. He glanced up to Godric's stern features restraining the urge to wince. He turned his head as Godric continued somewhat more sternly. "You are to work with the stable hands from dawn til dusk on all your free days until such time both Salazar and I are in agreement that we may trust you again."

Tristian sighed and nodded his head. Obviously his fathers had hoped to keep him busy twenty four hours a day and out of trouble. There would be no time for socialising or free time.

"_Smart. Squishy can't do anything if he's busy," _Sidonius added from under the pillow sagely

"_Close your trap, Sid. If I wanted your opinion I would have asked for it,"_ Tristian hissed back grumpily.

Maxina, Salazar's female snake friend slowly unwound herself from the bedposts. _"Idle hands maketh trouble."_

Tristian groaned and buried himself underneath his pillows. "I've died and gone to hell."

Godric took this as his cue to leave. "I shall allow your brothers a short visit to knaw your ears off before I want you to sleep."

Tristian nodded from underneath his nest of pillows. How he dreaded coming face to face with his brothers. Godric's hand however was already on the door knob. As the door opened he came face to face with two eager youths.

Tristian listened half heartedly from his vantage point to the whispers of frantic conversation. Before a moment later the door closed with a heavy thump and he was immediately crushed by Axcel who had taken a mightly leap and landed on him roughly.

"Whadda think ya were doing?"

"Mmmph!" Tristian mumbled from under his brother's weight.

"Ah you might want to let him breathe," Silas blithely commented patting Maxina on the head affectionately.

"You could have been killed, tortured or worse!" Axcel continued slowly getting up from his somewhat crushed brother. "Do you know how embarrassing it was for me to approach father while Lord Ravenclaw was in the same room."

"I'm sorry, alright?" Tristian mumbled. "I thought you would have realised by now I don't get things right."

"Merlin's oath, yes," Axcel continued with his hands firmly planted on his hips so that he was in danger of being compared to Molly Weasley.

"What else can I say?" Tristian muttered grumpily. "Perviously all I had to say was sorry I didn't get killed I'll try harder next time."

"That's hardly funny, Trist," Silas pointed out. "Look we don't have long before Lord Gryffindor wants you tucked up in bed. So I'll say this now: quit the morbid humour it's not helping."

"Honestly, Si, what do you want me to say?"

"Being truly abashed and regretful for your selfish, idiotic, moronic, stupid, irresponsible behaviour would be a start."

"Not like fathers could hate me anymore than they do now." Tristian replied. "I'm not good with this people thing and definitely no good with 'family' stuff."

Silas sighed from his end of the room and brought Maxina with him. "Father doesn't hate you."

Tristian merely raised his eyebrows incredulously. "He seemed pretty angry last time I looked."

"Anger and hate are not synomous with each other." Silas let Maxina down on the quilted surface and smiled sadly at his brother before turning to Axcel who was regarding Tristian seriously. "I think our dear baby brother needs lessons on family matters."

"Father _is _angry," Axcel commented folding his arms against his chest. "That is what it means to be a parent or guardian. He's angry because he cares about what happens to you."

"Father's affection for you has not diminished," Silas continued.

"You frightened poor Father badly. I think he had it in his mind you were already dead," Axcel supplied slipping his hand on top of Tristian's. "Grandfather had another adopted son, Michael who was much younger than Father. But Father loved Michael as if they were blood brothers. One day Michael did the same thing you did… suffice to say all Father had to bring home was a mutilated, cold corpse. Father was grief striken."

Tristian sighed heavily and buried his head in his hands. "I royally stuffed up this time."

"_Well you are only human,"_ Sidonius murmured in his safe place from underneath the feather pillow.

'

'

'

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 12****th**** January 1061: 07:26am**

Tristian woke to Ulrich entering his chambers with a tray of freshly baked bread. He made eye contact with Ulrich's disapproving stare before turning his head away. Ulrich, knowing his place as a servant of the household, didn't say a word as he placed the tray over Tristian's lap. Tristian murmured his thanks and bent his head over the tray just as Sidonius decided to yawn loudly and slither out from his advantageous sleeping place.

"Lord Gryffindor said you had a trying night," Ulrich commented. Tristian nodded despite Ulrich's phrasing making it a statement rather than a fact. "You'll study abed today."

Tristian opened his mouth to make a protest but Ulrich bet him to it.

"It is as Lord Slytherin desires."

"Of course," Tristian muttered.

"_You brought this upon yourself, snakeling,"_ Maxina hissed.

Tristian restrained the urge to roll his eyes at the female snake and turned back to his breakfast.

"Lord Gryffindor also requires an audience this morning," Ulrich continued as if Maxina had not interjected her comment.

Tristian's head snapped up. What on earth could Godric want since their discussion last night? Surely Axcel had not divulged to their Father about his grisly humour of death and dying.

"He'll be here momentarily before the morning classes."

Tristian was beginning to wish Ulrich would just go away instead of commenting now and then on what is to happen. He barely reached for a hunk of bread on the tray and brought it to his mouth before Ulrich spoke again.

"Young Henry sends his regards."

"Anything else?"

"No practical magic is to be performed this week as per his lordship's desires."

At this Tristian did roll his eyes only to find himself cuffed about the head by the manservant. It was also during this brief moment that Godric decided to let his presence be known.

The Gryffindor founder glanced from Tristian to Ulrich and merely raised an eyebrow elegantly and dismissing the rueful servant.

Tristian bowed his head as Godric made his way unconcernedly across the room. He noticed that, although Godric did not possess the natural grace of Salazar or Saladin, he moved with a warrior's poise.

"I trust you rested well after your brothers were done with you?"

Tristian chanced a look into Godric's face and was somewhat relieved that the lion founder seemed to be quite serene.

"Well enough," he muttered in reply before raking his hand over his face.

"I brought something for you," Godric commented sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Oh?" Tristian shook his head wishing he was more a conversationlist in the mornings. There didn't seem to be an intelligent thing to say in reply.

"Eat your breakfast I shall be the one doing the talking."

Intrigued by the strange turn of events Tristian instantly obeyed and Godric began to speak.

"I had thought the Gift to have been redundant in my line. Usually it is only passed onto the eldest male child. But perhaps due to your unconventional method of…er…conception the rule does not apply to you."

"Gift? What gift?" Tristian demanded forgetting momentarily that his mouth was full.

"Chew with your mouth closed." Godric shook his head sadly. "My father was a TimeKeeper… an unusual ability to walk through time whilst the body is conscious. And although nor Axcel or myself possess the Gift it seems to have manifested in you."

"Me?"

"Did you not see your home the future whilst under sedation?"

"Yes."

"And were you not certain what you saw was real?"

Tristian paused for a second and paled somewhat. It had been too real not to have been true. "There's a traitor at Hogwarts."

Godric's strong hand encompassed Tristian's slim fingers. "While you are ignorant of what the Gift can and can't do you must not act rashly. As far as I know travelling so far through time is unheard of and using magic through another… I can't say I understand."

Tristian blinked slowly. "It is an advantage."

Godric consider him for a moment gravely. "True. But only when used wisely."

"This could be used to defeat Voldemort," Tristian whispered in awe. "Power the dark lord knows not."

Godric's level gaze did not falter. "You must also remember that one small mistake could harm everything you hold dear."

"And not acting would cause the same consequences," Tristian muttered.

"Yes," Godric conceded. "That is true. What I am trying to say is you won't be doing this alone. I won't allow that."

Tristian smiled softly to himself hardly believing the answer to the defeat of Voldemort was at his feet.

"My biological father was a spy the reason my clan was destroyed. His one false move cost lives."

"Are you trying to scare me?"

"On the contarty I am preparing you. This is war Trist and anyone of us could be killed."

"I won't let…"

Godric placed one finger over Tristian's moving lips halting the words from his tongue. Tristian breathed in sharply feeling as if his words had tumbled backwards and were now stuck in his throat.

"You can't save everyone," Godric said cupping Tristian's face in his hands. "'tis a hard lesson but vital for any warrior and as much as I don't want you or your brother to learn this lesson it is best that you understand."

Tristian nodded dumbly. "I know."

"Then accept that there will be casualties," Godric continued firmly before releasing Tristian's face and bringing a book from the folds of his robes. "I have of course theories about this gift. The hellebore added to the sedative so I am told by my father's references in his book allows young TimeKeepers to begin to learn to 'walk' through time. And of course that fiasco with summoning the vial… time is a fickle thing, my son. Obviously it was not time for you to meet us while in vial form Time waited until it deemed you mature enough before pulling you through the ages."

"I don't understand."

"And I don't profess to," Godric supplied. "TimeKeepers are rare magicians and can influence the face of Time. Obviously before you were summoned you were not ready to meet us."

"I had only just found out… only just accepted a small part of my mother's story could possibly hold some truth."

Godric smiled sadly. "I'll leave my father's personal journal here with you. 'tis not use for Axcel or myself."

Tristian took the journal from Godric's hand almost relunctantly.

"There is hope for us then?" The question was out of Tristian's mouth before he could recant it.

Godric smiled somewhat indulgently before planting a fatherly kiss on Tristian's brow. "Make sure to study what Lord Slytherin has set first."

"And Tristian…" Tristian's gaze followed Godric to the door where the lion founder turned to regard him once more. "There is always hope."


	26. Experimenation

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Twenty- Six. Experimentation**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 16****th**** January 1061: 11:43am**

Tristian was painfully aware of Ophelia, Imogene and a few Hufflepuff girls watching him as he worked shirtless beside the stable hands. He deliberately turned his head to the side so that he didn't have to face the giggling masses.

"Gotta audience ya do, mate," one of the servant boys told him proudly. "Ain't seen no girlies around 'ere before ya."

Tristian glanced up at his colleague and came face to face with an oval face with missing and rotten teeth. He couldn't begin to describe the smell of his breath or the reek of his body odour.

"Couldn't imagine why," Tristian mumbled sarcastically, trying in vain to breath through his nose. He turned back towards the carefully chosen job of mucking out the stales intending to cease any conversation with his colleague.

"Good far business, ya are."

Tristian paused and slowly turned around to face the other stable hand and thought better of making a reply. The words seemed to just stick in his throat.

"Which bonny lassie should I take for a tussle in da hay?"

Tristian did turn around to face the grinning face of his now irritating work partner. "None if I can help it," Tristian growled. "Keep your grimy hands and eyes away from the ladies."

Tristian turned his head just in time to see that Madam Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw who were in the middle of shooing the girls away had heard what had been said. Red faced Tristian decided to turn back the stall he had been mucking out and deliberately dropped a pile of horse droppings on the now vacant faced stable hand.

"Goodness," Ravenclaw exclaimed laying her delicate hand over her heart. "Well I never."

"Inside ladies," Hufflepuff called to the pouting girls, who if they couldn't drool over the opposite sex wanted to see the opposite sex fight to win their favour.

"Get to work," Tristian growled threateningly. "I'm not doing it all for you."

Tristian was half expecting a fist to be connected to his nose in any moment. However the stunned stable hand just turned away in a huff to work at the opposite end of the stables.

It wasn't until an hour later that Tristian glanced up from his work and found that Marguerite was standing behind him and was watching intently.

Seeing Tristian's gaze Marguerite smiled disarmingly. "Ophelia has been telling any Gryffindor lass that would listen that you are the protector of Hogwarts' ladies virginity."

Tristian immediately reddened and placed his pitchfork to the side. He was uncomfortably aware that he was still shirtless and covered in sweat and grime.

"Have you heard more about the impending betrothal?" Marguerite ventured after a pregnant pause.

Tristian wiped his brow and glanced at the pretty French girl. Both Salazar and Godric had cornered him at opportune moments and drilled him on proper conducted of a betrothed male. Tristian quickly learned that he had very little choice it the matter, which truly vexed him. His fathers' choice: Marguerite the French. A choice made despite Salazar's apparent dislike of all things French.

Tristian found that he was most certainly blushing again. This was the first opportunity he had to speak to Marguerite after the news of his own impending betrothal.

Marguerite flicked back her curly red hair and smiled. "It's not all bad."

"I'm independent," Tristian mumbled. "I like to be free to make my own decisions in life."

"Betrothal is not something left to the young," Marguerite replied calmly twisting one of her curls around her finger. "A better match for well - at least me couldn't have been made."

Tristian snorted.

"Would you perhaps prefer a bride whom you've never met?"

"No couldn't do that," Tristian grumbled.

"It's only a betrothal," Marguerite said comfortingly. "It'll be a few years before we are expected to marry and meanwhile we won't have to fight other suitors away once it is known we are promised to each other."

"Tell that to Ophelia," Tristian commented sarcastically his eyes wandering to a nearby balcony over which Ophelia was levitating her handkerchief. He watched as Ophelia cancelled the charm and the handkerchief floated to the ground. Before ignoring the small square piece of laced fabric and turning back to Marguerite.

Marguerite was smiling again. "We like each other well enough and…" Marguerite left her sentence to hang.

"… And?"

"And you'll treat me as a human being won't you? Not as some silly female twit."

Tristian glanced into Marguerite's pleading eyes, shocked to find that the Gryffindor girl in front of him was truly afraid of being dismissed as nothing more than furniture. "I will respect you… but if you start waving your hanky around and fainting whenever I happen to glance your way… I don't think I could take you seriously."

Marguerite laughed lightly. "I will try hard to keep my urges under control," she said with mock sincerity. Watching as Ophelia's handkerchief was inching its way closer to Tristian like it was a puppet on a string. Tristian was expertly ignoring the fluttering of the handkerchief. Marguerite suddenly returned back to her pensive state of mind. "So now that is settled tell me are the rumours about you true?"

"Which ones?" Tristian retorted quickly with a grin. "I'm sure that there is an assortment to choose from."

"The ones about you being Lord Godric and Salazar's biological son through some obscure experiment and that you are attempting to save the world as we know it."

Tristian couldn't help but stare it utter amazement. How had Marguerite found out? He realised too late that Marguerite was watching his face intently.

"So it is true?" Marguerite even sounded surprised by her own revelation. She quickly regained her composure before blurting her next question excitedly. "Can I help save the world?"

'

'

'

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 17****th**** January 1061: 09:32am**

"_What is that awful smell?"_

Tristian glanced up and grinned at the indigent Maxina who had curled herself around Salazar's neck. Salazar's lips were set in a soft smile as he stroked Maxina's diamond head almost lovingly and stepped further into the room.

"_Maturing hellebore," _Tristian replied snapping Godric's biological father's journal and standing up to greet Salazar whom he had been expecting. Salazar turned his head, regarded the cauldron in the corner of the room and merely raised his eyebrow.

"According to the journal matured, boiled hellebore works the best," Tristian explained hastily holding up the journal. Tristian too glanced to the pewter cauldron and wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"I see…" Salazar turned his calculating gaze back to Tristian. "Must you insist in keeping it locked in your chambers?"

Tristian had heard that Salazar was none too pleased with Tristian's and Godric's sketchy plans. In fact Silas had told him the two founders had a screaming match over him. Surprisingly it was Godric that won the argument.

"Told father that as a stubborn little Gryffindor with the most unfortunate Slytherin traits you wouldn't stop until this insane dark lord was well and truly dead or you would mope away the rest of your life in misery," Silas had told him with a nod of his head. "That quietened father… he doesn't want you to behave recklessly and he doesn't want you depressed either."

Tristian smiled to himself and crossed the room to stand over the cauldron. He sniffed once and the smell that assailed his senses told him: yes the hellebore was definitely mature.

"Is it safe?"

Tristian turned his head and regarded Salazar whose steely gaze hadn't left him. "According to the journal it's the safest combination to use. Silas and Axcel will be with me and I won't use enough to be under long."

Salazar smiled thinly as if he was trying to show encouragement when in fact he was displeased by the mere thought. "Be careful," Salazar said in clipped tones.

"I shall," Tristian promised.

"Godric, your grandfather and I will be back from London in a few days," Salazar commented. "Ulrich knows how to contact us."

Tristian nodded graciously. He had already had the farewell lecture from Saladin and Godric. Tristian didn't believe they would be away long enough to warrant such lectures but was not brave enough to voice his opinion.

"We may be gone longer than you think," Salazar told him gravely. "Even with the four founders leaving the castle to gather an army… it takes time."

"I know," Tristian said resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Be safe."

"No trouble while I'm gone," Salazar threatened levelling at Tristian the sternest gaze he could muster.

"I promise."

'

'

'

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 18****th**** January 1061: 04:23pm**

Tristian eyed Axcel, Silas and Marguerite who stood staring down at him from where he lay on the bed.

"It says here that all you need to do is relax, mediate on the time you wish to walk to and concentrate on leaving your body," Axcel murmured running his fingers down the delicate pages of the journal. "After you drink the hellebore of course."

"I know," Tristian snapped eying the hellebore in Marguerite's hands. "You've told me that a thousand times."

Silas rolled his eyes and took the hellebore from Marguerite's grasp and thrust it under Tristian's nose. "Drink so we can get rid of this foul stuff."

"We need to keep it so we can continue experimenting," Tristian muttered screwing his nose up in distasted. He was dreading the thought of drinking the horrid concoction.

"It says here that you may be able to take something from the current time to the time you are moving to." Axcel's nose was comically only an inch away from the page.

Tristian seemed thoughtful for a moment before yanking out the snake clasp that pulled his long hair back. He took the hellebore in his other hand and drank quickly. It didn't taste as bad as Tristian had immediately thought: it was worse. Nevertheless Tristian turned his thoughts away from Dudley's sport socks to a young Silas…

For what seemed like a long time nothing seemed to happen. Tristian was about to give up when his abruptly found himself hurtling forwards through darkness.

Tristian found himself in the familiar surrounds of his grandfather's rooms. A younger Salazar was standing by the hearth drinking strong mead. His eyes were narrowed angrily as they bore hatefully into the flames. Of his grandfather there was no sign.

"Papa."

Both were startled by a softly spoken voice. Salazar's eyes immediately softened and he knelt invitingly and opened his arms. A small Silas hiccupped where he stood, his long raven hair tangled from sleep, his night shirt a little too long slipped from his shoulder. Tristian would have guessed that his brother was five or six.

Silas hiccuped again, before clumsily running into Salazar's arms and wrapping his small arms around his father's neck.

"I thought you weren't coming home," Silas sniffled into Salazar's neck. "Robert McFarlan said that…that you would be werewolf food and… they…they would stick your head on a pike."

Salazar merely made hushing sounds and stroked the top of Silas' silken head. "Did he now?"

Little Silas nodded into Salazar neck. "Hush, Papa's home."

Tristian fumbled around uselessly feeling a little out of place in this intimate moment. He watched as Salazar stood easily with Silas and sat himself in an empty chair and cradled the youngster to him.

"Mama?"

Salazar sighed heavily looking suddenly a lot older than he was a moment ago. He wrapped Silas in his long coat and tucked the child into him tightly as if his actions could cease the child's questions.

"What about Mama?" Silas demanded and then added hopefully, "Can I see her?"

Salazar seemed saddened by the question and carded his hand lovingly through Silas' raven locks. "Silas, do you remember when we spoke about what happened to Lord Godric's old hunting hound you were fond of."

Silas nodded and stuck his finger in his mouth.

"Your mother has gone to the same place," Salazar continued gently prising Silas' fingers from his mouth.

Silas started blinking rapidly trying to connect the information together.

"Your mother has died child," Salazar sighed heavily as his ears were immediately assailed by childish cries of 'no'.

Tristian began feeling a little more useless until he remembered the hair clasp in his hand. Salazar just stared blankly ahead unable to comfort himself or Silas.

"Hey, Silas…can you hear me?" Tristian felt like a complete fool. But young Silas' head shot up and he glanced around the room. Rubbing his chubby hands across his eyes Tristian was sure Silas was now staring right at him.

Taking a chance Tristian lifted his fist with the clasp and set it in Silas' fist. "Are you my big brother?" Silas demanded in true Slytherin fashion.

At this Salazar suddenly came to himself and although Tristian got the distinct impression that Salazar could not see him that Salazar could sense him.

Tristian shook his head.

"Who are you?" Silas demanded curtly kneeling on his father's lap. The stern expression was lost by the tear tracks on his flushed cheeks. Silas' expression turned hopeful. "Are you a ghost? Are you dead? Have you seen my Mama?"

Tristian frowned and decided to find his voice. "No. I'm alive very much alive. I lost my mother too but you want to know a secret…"

Little Silas leaned forward eagerly. "I like secrets…"

"Hmm I bet you do," Tristian replied before leaning forward. "I am sure your mother will always be with you and not matter what she will always be proud of you just like Papa."

Tears trickled down Silas' pink cheeks. "Do you think so?"

"I doubt there is a prouder mother anywhere."

"Really?"

"Ah – ha…"

"Are you sure you're not my older brother… I would like a brother," Silas glanced towards his father hopefully. "Do I have a brother?"

Salazar shook his head sadly and stood before looking around the room. "You have no brother. Come. Back to bed with you, you've had a trying day."

Silas looked heartbroken by Salazar's proclamation. Tristian could only smile through the threatening tears.

"Someday…" was all Tristian managed before the door opened and he was engulfed by darkness.

'

'

'

Tristian opened his eyes to find four pairs staring down at him.

"_Are you crying Squishy?"_ Sidonius remarked in bemusement.

Tristian raised his hands to his cheeks to find that indeed that they were wet. He glanced sideways to Silas and muttered, "I am not your big brother. But _I am _your brother."

For a moment Silas seemed confused but then his face brightened in realisation. "That was you!" he exclaimed. "And all these years Father claimed that I was stressed and upset causing me to imagine things that weren't there in my grief."

"I was there," Tristian mumbled red faced. "Sorry for the intrusion."

Silas smiled at him and sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm glad I got the brother I wished for."

"Er… not to interrupt this mushy scene but did it _work?_" Axcel demanded.

Tristian glanced at Silas. Silas glanced at Tristian. "It worked," they chorused in unison.

"I want to try spying on Malic say tomorrow – today," Tristian said.

"Won't you overdose on hellebore?" Marguerite asked a little concerned.

"You can't overdose on hellebore," Silas chuckled. "That was just my father being a little overprotective."

Axcel grinned jumped from his place before returning moments later with another cup of hellebore.

"Cheers," Tristian toasted and seconds later he found himself sitting opposite Malic.


	27. Schemes of Madness

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Twenty – Six. The Schemes of Madness **

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Tristian's Chambers 18****th**** January 1061: 05:49pm**

**The Forbidden Forest, Malic's Tent 19****th**** January 1061: 5:49pm**

Tristian found himself sitting opposite Malic in a blink of an eye. He could have sworn his lips had only just touched the cool glass when his chambers melted before him. He didn't feel Silas' and Axcel's hands lowering him gently back to lay stiff on his bed.

Tristian's heart automatically thumped loudly in his chest: pumping blood, that seemed to freeze, around his body just at the sight of his enemy. He swallowed with difficulty and forced himself to remember that Malic need not know he was there unless he wished it.

"The founders have left that infernal school."

Tristian twisted his head around to see who had spoken to Malic to come face to face with his ex- uncle Warrick. Warrick seemed more confident in himself than when he had last seen him, he walked further into the tent his long black cloak and hood obscuring his features. But even so Tristian was sure the man was grinning widely.

"Good news indeed," Malic crowed nodding his head and raising his goblet. He head bobbed up and down in a way that Tristian instantly knew the werewolf hand been drinking. "'tis our opportune moment to attack."

"What about the boy?" Warrick growled pacing the length of the tent.

Malic smile maliciously. "Can't let your brother have what you do not, eh? A child of such power…"

Warrick swore and spat to one side.

"Never mind… once the founders are dead the school will be open to us. The quickest way to this Tristian Wolfe, if indeed this be his real name, is to deprive him of his gloves."

Warrick raised his eyebrows at this notion.

"Kill your father, Salazar and dearest Godric and the boy's defences will crumble. Without them he is easy prey."

Warrick chuckled evilly in a manner that sent shivers of fear up Tristian's spine. "And such a handsome child too."

Malic leaned back into his chair and wrapped a long cloak about his shoulders. "The founders should reach the Valley by tonight. A lovely place of seclusion to hide from Muggles but oh dear…"

"A perfect place to trap them in the night."

Malic was smiling broadly as he brought his goblet of wine to his face and sniffed. Slowly he tipped the goblet and Tristian watched as red liquid stained the roughly hewn table. "And then their blood shall spill on the ground."

"And Einar, son of Narain? What of him?"

"Einar and those who resist my rule shall die in the coming of the dawn. My wolves are in place to ensure a quick execution."

Warrick clapped his hands together. "Perfect."

"And your son?" There was a strange maniacal glint in Malic's eye.

"Vladimir can be replaced. I already have another wench who mark my words will birth me a new son and heir by the end of the year or die."

Malic smirked. "Your offspring means little to you?"

"I know only power."

Tristian knew that his time to overhear the rest of Malic's plans was running short. He fought against the darkness that was ready to embrace him and in turn bring him back into consciousness.

He tore through what could only be described as a thin curtain to find that he was standing beside Godric close to dawn the next day. There was something wrong with his vision everything seemed blurred and movement was much too quick for reality. Breathing became difficult. In desperation Tristian fell to his knees and grasped at hem of Godric's cloak, forgetting he could not yet touch anything that was solid.

With his supply of air rapidly decreasing Tristian uttered a desperate spell. "Lumos…"

The ground beneath him seemed to quake a little under the pressure of Tristian's softly spoken spell. Godric sensing the change turned around and Tristian immediately knew that Godric could see him even though his vision was fading quickly.

"Tristian… it's… dangerous… go…back… not… strong…" Godric's voice seemed to be coming from miles away.

Tristian shook his head, tears of desperation now making their way down his cheeks. "Malic… army…trap… here…"

Godric's head shot up as they both heard a shout of surprise. "Tristian go back; you can't help me here…"

Tristian clutched his chest.

"Go back my son… there's nothing you can do… I command you to return to your body."

Tristian nodded and blinked twice gathering his strength and wits to return to his body. Just as he did so he heard Godric's bellow and saw crimson pool to the ground. He thought he might have screamed but darkness had claimed him and he knew no more.

'

'

'

"Ow!"

Pain burst through Tristian's forehead as he collided with something very solid. His hands flew to the spot of the pain and he peered through this splayed fingers. Ironically enough Vladimir was now in the room and was mirroring his own actions.

"Steady, steady…" Silas soothed from the side as he coaxed Tristian to lie down again. "Deep breathes… deeper…deeper."

"Sorry," Tristian murmured hoarsely finding it difficult to breathe.

"Just breathe," Axcel commanded from where he stood. Tristian turned to face him and felt his skin crawl as he remembered the final seconds before he regained consciousness.

"Are you okay?" Marguerite inquired standing at the end of the bed and looking out of place as she wrung her petite hands. "It looked like someone was strangling you… Vlad heard us… but he couldn't wake you."

Refusing to lie down and relax as Silas was trying to coax him, Tristian turned his head to the side.

"According to the journal that is what happens when a TimeKeeper refuses to go back," Axcel commented sternly hefting the book and glaring at Tristian.

Tristian wiped his brow finding that he was sweaty and somewhat exhausted. "I had to warn him… but I think I was too late."

"Warn who?" Vladimir demanded curtly. "Of what?"

"Malic… dawn attack… in the Valley… all founders…" Try as he might Tristian couldn't seem to catch his breathe.

"Settle down," Silas said starting to rub Tristian back. "Deep breathes. Axcel isn't their any clues what to do for these systems in that cursed book?"

Axcel shifted through the book and shrugged uselessly.

Vladimir sighed heavily and urged Tristian to sit upright, knees bent and his head lowered so that his fringe tickled his knees.

"What's wrong with him Vlad?"

Harry turned his head to the side only to have Vlad turn him back so his nose touched his knees. "Don't move, cousin," Vlad commanded as he turned back to his much younger sisters.

"Georgie grab me that wet cloth like a good girl." Georgina skipped into the room with a few twirls, much to Marguerite's amusement, before taking up the cloth and brandishing it under Vladimir's nose.

"Thank you, Georgie," Vlad murmured as Georgina curtsied and waved to her sister who was still hovering at the door.

Vladimir dabbed Tristian's face gently much to the amazement of the younger wizard. A few more moments passed before Vladimir asked, "You can breathe now?"

Tristian nodded wearily and found himself being lowered like an invalid onto the bed. "Good, stay calm and tell us what happened."

So Tristian took a deep breath and told them all that he had seen. He only chanced a glance up at Axcel at the very end. Axcel returned his gaze with a worried frown. "But Father's not dead… is he?"

Tristian shrugged uselessly. "I didn't see anything more. Only…"

"Come," Vladimir commanded offering Tristian his hand. "It's time for us to make our own plans."

'

'

'

**The Forbidden Forest 18****th**** January 1061: 8:21pm**

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Tristian glanced at Axcel who was determinedly grimacing at the forest foliage before him. It was the first time is Gryffindor brother had spoken.

"Einar could prove to be a valuable ally," Tristian commented stiff backed.

"We're wasting time." Tristian sent a side long glance to Axcel who was shifting uncomfortably in the saddle.

"We need more support," Tristian returned.

"From centaurs!" Axcel nearly shrieked. "Are you suicidal?"

Tristian sniffed indignantly and turned Goliath's head around so that he was now face to face with Vladimir on his large black steed. "How much longer?"

Ignoring both Marguerite and Silas rolling their eyes at him, he must have asked that question at least a hundred times.

Vladimir looked down his long nose at the younger wizard and shrugged his shoulders. "Einar will be here, little cousin, he knows the signal well."

"Indeed I do two legger."

It was almost comical how Axcel nearly fell face first from his saddle with the shock of one being spoken to and two having half a dozen arrow heads shoved under his nose.

'

'

'

**The Forbidden Forest 19****th**** January 1061: 3:12am**

Tristian sat half awake on the back of Goliath who seemed quite content plodding away heavily. To his left Einar held Goliath's reins as Tristian felt his head droop for the third time in ten minutes.

"We should have left him in bed," Axcel muttered sending a glare in Silas direction.

"And have him following us and trying to save the world solo. I don't think so," Silas returned while Vladimir characteristically snorted in agreement.

"He'll faint from exhaustion before we get there," Axcel continued to grumble. "He used to much magical energy… he needs to recuperate before he does anything strenuous."

"Our situation at this point of time doesn't have room for recuperation," Marguerite pointed out.

"He'll just have to settle for sleeping in the saddle," Silas sighed heavily has Tristian's head bobbed to wakefulness again.

"No good if he falls asleep in the midst of battle," Axcel grumbled. "I don't know if you Slytherins understand the fact that alertness helps a great deal…"

"Peace Axcel," Silas suggested holding up a gloved hand and patting his borrowed horse from the stables. "I have a potion that will brighten his eyes and renew his strength but I only have one dose and it is much too early."

Vladimir snorted in agreement.

'

'

'

**Somewhere in Great Britain,** **19****th**** January 1061: 1:02pm**

Tristian came back to himself fully when someone had helped in from the saddle and propped him against a tree. A few blinks and a wide yawn later he was looking into Silas' grimacing face. "Here. Eat and drink."

Tristian took the apple, dates, cheese and the offered water flask thankfully before taking a long drink. A few more long blinks revealed that the centaur clan was still very much with them.

Einar stood a few paces away watching as broad shouldered clan members rested and refreshed themselves. Tristian shivered with the mere thought of going to battle against the grim faced half – race. The centaurs had not taken the news of Malic's impending betrayal too kindly. With Einar on side it wasn't too difficult to convince the others in the clan to dismiss the obvious differences and fight together for their very serval.

"We are close to the valley," Silas' soft voice informed him. Tristian nodded his head wearily and pulled his knees into his chest. "Eat up; you'll need your strength."

Tristian grudgingly bit down into the apple and offered Silas his dates. Silas shook his head dismissively and moved off into the direction where Vladimir was watching the exchange closely.

'

'

'

**The Valley,** **19****th**** January 1061: 08:34pm**

Tristian thought it was going to be ill. They had just crested over the lush green rim of the Valley to find that Malic and his army of magical creatures had somehow just beaten them to the founders' camp.

Tristian swallowed heavily searching in vain for the spot where Godric had been standing he was communicating to him the evil that Malic was up to. He didn't have to search long. Godric was standing seemingly stooped over something to the far left of the camp. The lion founder seemed to be a fair distance away from the makeshift tents… Tristian's heart hammered in his chest. In his heart of hearts he knew what Godric was doing – talking to him.

With a strangled cry Tristian urged Goliath into a gallop. He was vaguely aware of Silas' cries on the wind and Axcel thundering after him on Octavian.

Goliath surged forward pushing cool air on Tristian's cheeks, whipping his soft flesh until he was sure he was stinging all over. He felt light headed; his skin was burning! Axcel's cries behind him alerted him to the fact that what he was feeling was not natural.

Goliath reared onto his strong back legs screaming a terrible bellow. Hands loosening from the reins Tristian realised too late he had lost control of his body. He fell from the saddle and Goliath trotted past him as if nothing had happened.

A spell, Tristian realised, someone had cast a spell on him he had been so intent to reaching Godric in time that he did not realise that Malic had wizards with him. Stupid! Of course Malic had wizards – was not his uncle one of the chief conspirators.

"Trist!" Axcel galloped past with his hand outstretched. Tristian took the offered hand and was swept up into the saddle.

Glancing over Axcel's shoulder Tristian grimaced. Godric stood surrounded by armed werewolves and vampires. He was unnumbered and outmatched. They were too late.

Axcel however had other ideas. Swearing viciously, so that if Godric had heard him he would be mucking out stables for a week, he kicked the sides of his war horse and charged.

Grinning Tristian drew his sword, the brother blade of the one carried by Axcel, and slashed, stabbed and parried as they flew past the enemy surrounding their father. Red blood stained Tristian's blade, hand and sleeve as the enemy shrieked and melted before the team of brothers.

Axcel wheeled their wild steed around expertly and charged for another assault. Tristian had his blade ready to swipe down unsuspecting enemies. With all his might he swung and as blade followed through he was grabbed and wrenched from the saddle.

A fist connected to his cheekbone. But Tristian twisted around sending both himself and his assailant crashing to the ground. Three very vicious kicks to the face later the young wizard was free from his foe's grasp that was now sporting a very painful and very broken nose.

Scrambling to his feet as if ready for another confrontation, Tristian took time to note his surroundings. It was all but over.

'

'

'

Vladimir and Silas shock their heads at the sheer bravado of their Gryffindor counterparts.

"I swear he's more Gryffindor than Slytherin," Silas muttered. Vladimir merely grunted in reply.

On the signal Silas drew his own weapon. And with a battle cry that would freeze the most formidable of hearts charged.

It seemed that Axcel's and Tristian's unconventional and daring entry into battle had distracted the enemy so much that it was only when the battle cry rent the air that Malic's forces realised their danger.

Malic's forces barely had time to regroup and face the threat. Silas grimaced at the horrid sound of the charge crashing into Malic's weakened and confused front lines.

Confused and subject to onslaught from all sides, Malic's forces would not last long.

'

'

'

Salazar's eyes snapped open as he heard a misplaced cry in the camp. They hadn't halted for the night long when he had announced he was going for a nap. Groggily he cursed to himself before rolling off his pallet, grabbing his discarded sword with the intention of threatening their entourage to be quiet.

As he lifted the flap of his tent Salazar realised instantaneously their dangerous predicament. He stood momentarily stunned as he watched Malic's henchmen get dangerously close to Godric who seemed preoccupied. His heart stopped as he saw Tristian charge at a full gallop his majestic sword high above his head. He just had time to witness Tristian being toppled from his mount by a painful blood boiling curse.

Someone struck him from behind. Stunned Salazar had his wand in his hand immediately only to swivel and come face to face with the last person he wanted to see.

"Warrick," Salazar hissed coldly.

Warrick smiled thinly and fired two offensive spells randomly. That was always Warrick's weakness. He was fast but sloppy never deliberately selecting his spells before firing in a fight.

Salazar blocked the spells effortlessly and snarled threatening at Warrick. "I owe you death, brother."

Warrick laughed and returned Salazar's sneer. Salazar's anger didn't have time to surface as Warrick's haughty expression suddenly changed rapidly from confusion to shock. A small river of red bubbled and frothed at his mouth, his lips quivered as he tried to say something.

Salazar could only stand in morbid amusement and befuddlement as his wicked brother fell at his feet: stone dead.

Raising his eyes to where Warrick had been standing was Vladimir, his own long black wand outstretched and face set with grim determination.


	28. Saladin's Vengence Tristian's Strength

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Twenty Eight. Saladin's Vengence. Tristian's Strength.**

**The Valley,** **19****th**** January 1061: 08:59pm**

Tristian stood slowly as if expecting another confrontation. The battle was all but over. Gingerly touching his bruised cheekbone he hissed violently and spat out a little bit of blood. Now that the heat of battle was over he felt suddenly very weak at the knees. His skull felt like it had been packed with a multitude of foam stuffing. He sank to the ground and let the dizziness warp around him like a long woollen cloak.

Axcel shaking also sunk to his knees by his brother and placed what he meant to be a comforting hand on Tristian's knees. "I think I'm going to be sick," Tristian muttered and Axcel noticed that his skin was flushed and burning.

"I have been sick brother," Axcel confessed patting Tristian's leg. "But I think it was the blood boiling curse that is affecting you at the moment."

"Blood boiling curse?" Tristian parroted. "Bloody brilliant."

Axcel laughed lightly and shook his head. The two brothers didn't have time to continue there banter. They were abruptly cut off by two strong arms embracing them in a wild bear hug.

"I don't know whether to be proud or angry," Tristian heard Godric's voice as his nose was pressed firmly against his father's burly chest. He let out a sigh of relief that one of his father's was still living before joining Axcel in protest to be let go.

"My boys have grown from boys to men and I have not the wits about me to realise it," Godric murmured and held his sons at arms length glancing at them in awe.

Tristian found himself blushing in embarrassment and pride. Never before had another adult he admired so praised him so highly. He vaguely wondered when Godric's good opinion meant so much to him.

Tristian didn't have any time to contemplate his changing attidudes towards his medieval family as Axcel broke out into sniggers. He craned his neck around to see what his brother was trying valiantly to mask his laughter over and saw Salazar Slytherin actually running without any thought of his dignity. Silas followed at what he surely felt was a more respectful and elegant pace. Salazar had no such qualms, Tristian noted, feeling somewhat flattered.

"Drink this," Salazar said falling to his knees quickly and shoving a vial of baby blue liquid into Tristian's hands.

Tristian sighed heavily and eyed the vial with an expression of disgust. No matter how many potions he was forced to swallow he would never become accustomed to the horrible taste. Salazar's raised eyebrow and the thin white lips convinced Tristian that he better down the horrid liquid.

Surprisingly the potion was cool on his tongue and sent shivers down his spine as he tipped it into his mouth. It was cold! He sighed heavily and leant his forehead on Salazar's chest.

"I thought I saw Godric die," Tristian sighed heavily in way of explanation thinking that Salazar required one.

Salazar's head shot up and he glared at Godric. "Tristian somehow was able to warn me only moments before Malic's troops attacked. He only saw the beginning."

"Only your blood…" Tristian muttered feebly feeling suddenly ill. A part of him was certain Godric had been decapitated.

"You're hurt," Salazar said accusingly over Tristian's head.

Godric smiled thinly. "Only a little bit."

Tristian sighed and pulled himself together and leant back to assure himself that Silas was indeed standing over him, smirking and in one piece.

"Where is Grandfather?" Tristian inquired and watched in trepedition as both Godric and Salazar exchanged worried glances.

"Malic!" Vladimir cried pointing. Tristian jumped unaware that his older cousin had also joined them. He turned briskly to where the elder wizard was pointing with his shaking hand.

Troops annilated and finding himself friendless on the field of battle, Malic was trying to make a quick escape. Tristian's heart thumped with wild exhalation as a familiar black bicorn gave chase. Long graceful neck bowed and two razor sharp horns plucked Malic's form from the ground and tossed him into the air.

Tristian fought the urge to giggle at Malic flailing body soaring through the air like a deposed of rag doll. He was vaguely aware of Godric's firm hand holding his sweating palms as he watched red droplets fly from Malic's battered body in what seemed to be slow motion.

As the evil werewolf's body hit the ground the bicorn turned back into the regal figure of Saladin Slytherin. Malic turned to face his foe and Tristian was sure the vile creature was trying to face his current situation with courage and honour. He failed magnificently. Saladin lifted his heavy sword and brought in down on a screaming Malic's head with a fury and intensity that surprised and terrified Tristian.

"The wolf is dead," Vladimir murmured shocked.

"I hope that will never be my head," Silas muttered uncomfortably still staring unblinkingly at Malic's corpse and Saladin's elegant figure.

Tristian sighed heavily surprise that his body didn't feel so flushed and warm anymore. His eyes were sliding closed despite his brain telling him he had to stay awake.

"Dreamless sleep… you tinted the potion with dreamless sleep."

Salazar smiled indulgently down into Tristian's sleepy face. "Just for you, my son," Tristian heard the soft reply before he tumbled into oblivion.

'

'

'

**The Valley,** 2**1****st**** January 1061: 07: 21pm**

Tristian shifted uneasily in his chair. Salazar's special blend of dreamless sleep and coolent had him unconscious the whole journey back from the Valley to Hogwarts. He stretched his shoulders again feeling the tight knot of muscle and sent a disgusted look at the two twins Gretchen and Georgina.

Seeing Tristian's annoyed glare, Georgina cheekily blew him a kiss. Gretchen raised her eyebrows in true Saladin Slytherin fashion, before turning back to her sister and chatting about Tristian's new 'love affair' with Marguerite.

Cheeks flaming in humiliation at Saladin surprisingly good natured amusement and the shining light of pride in Godric's eyes, Tristian turned back to his meal remember Ulrich's threat to shove it down his throat if he didn't comply and eat everything. Silas was busy piling Tristian's plate on his left side and Axcel on the right when they thought Tristian wasn't looking.

Tristian gave a long suffering sigh and glanced at his plate. "Why is there another piece of roast beef on my plate?" Tristian eyed Axcel accusingly. His Gryffindor brother grinned guiltly back and when back to his plate placidly.

Taking a spoonful of peas Tristian dumped them on Silas' plate while he continued a lively discussion with Madam Hufflepuff. Silas and Axcel didn't seem to realise that Tristian was piling the food right back onto their plates when they were watching.

"Are we going to try tonight?" Axcel's voice broke Tristian's revery and a dozen peas spilled from his fork as he jolted. Tristian blinked stupidly at the peas trying to figure out what Axcel's excited question was pertaining to.

"Taking a few people to the future," Silas said impatiently glancing up from his exchanged with Madam Hufflepuff. He refrained from making any other remark instead he glanced at his plate. "Why are there more peas on my plate?"

Tristian shrugged innocently at his brother's irrated stare and nodded his head. "I thought maybe only a few years, say twenty years first."

"That ought to be interesting. I wonder if I will have a beard," Axcel muttered between his roast beef. Silas rolled his eyes.

Tristian folded his napkin neatly and set his plate to the side. "I'm going to set up."

Axcel and Silas exchanged grins. "We're coming too!"

The three boys left the Great Hall with three spefic 'be carefuls' following them.

'

'

'

Twenty minutes later saw Tristian lying on his bed wedged between Axcel and Silas, with Marguerite watching apprenhensively. He shifted uncomfortably and closed his eyes and swallowed the hellbore in one gulp.

Tristian was instantly aware that he wasn't alone in drifting. Axcel and Silas were also with him. Concentrating on his destination and not his brothers Tristian soon found himself standing in the middle of an unknown room. He jumped when he heard a strange cry.

Moving away from his brother's presence Axcel approached a large oval cot. Tristian glanced at Silas and they withdrew their hands from each other's grip. As long as their hands did not stop touching in the present time the brother's weren't in danger: hence Margurerite's boring job.

"It's a… it's a baby!" Axcel said peering over the rim of the cot.

Silas rolled his eyes. "Truly?"

Not catching Silas' sarcasm Axcel nodded much to Tristian's amusement.

The door opened swiftly as the baby began to wail in earnst. A man of medium height, dark hair and a goatie entered and swiftly picked up the baby. "Oh you have a will of iron, Princess Isa," the man said to the babe holding her above his head as if to appraise the child.

The babe giggled and jiggled about happily. "Yes and you have woken Papa from his nap. Something your older sisters have been trying for the last half an hour."

The baby gurgled at him seemingly unconcerned by her father's triad. The man sighed heavily and sat down with the baby girl bouncing on his knee.

Tristian blinked realising suddenly who exactly he was seeing… himself. Silas was already eye Tristian appraisingly.

"Papa! Papa!"

The older Tristian raised his eyes heavenward and turned the baby to face him. "It seems Princess one and two have realised that you have vanquished me and I am awake."

Two little girls one dressed in crimson the other in emerald burst into the room. The littlest one a child of about four, with long read hair like a mane, stood on her tip toes to whisper in her father's ear. "'sanders is chasing us!"

"Truly," older Tristian said pinching the bridge of his nose. "And what does Uncle Axcel say of this, Liona?"

"That we should bother you with our shrill female voices," the older girl answered for her sister. She regarded her father with large innocent eyes and flipped her long black hair from her face. Tristian would have guessed she was eight. "Lysander is horrid."

"And what makes your cousin so horrid, Giselle my dear?" older Tristian asked seeing a pouting blonde toddler at the door. All but the child's button nose, large grey eyes and deep blonde curls disappeared from behind the door.

"He's only a boy, Papa!" Liona cried throwing her hands up in the air excited. "And we are girls. And he has frog spawn in his pockets."

"Papa is a boy. And he _only _has frog spawn?"

Giselle regarded her father seriously. "But… but… you're Papa, of course you are a boy," she said looking somewhat confused.

"And one day a boy will tell you my Princesses that you are _only_ a girl," Tristian told them gravely.

"Then I will have to punch their lights out," Giselle pointed out firmly as if her answer was obvious.

Older Tristian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose again. "Lysander is only a small child," he pointed out. "Don't you think you could let him join in with your games?"

Giselle looked put out. "You like him better than us because he is a boy," she told her father accusingly.

"I wonder how you are going to get out of this one," Silas muttered in Tristian's ear, making his brother groan.

Older Tristian shifted the baby over and indicated for the two girls to sit next to him. The children complied with long suffering sighs of indignation. "Did Papa ever tell you that when I was a little lad I had a cousin that made me feel awful?"

The two girls shook their heads. "Cousin Ladimir?" Liona asked seriously with her fingers wedged in her mouth.

"No. Another cousin, dear." The older wizard extracted his daughter's fingers from her mouth and glanced down at her tenderly. "You see I was only a wizard, a freak of nature. He hated me and wouldn't let me play with him."

"Aw… poor Papa." Liona tapped Tristian's cheek sympathetically. Older Tristian smiled on the little girl indulgently.

"Moral of the story is you want us to play with him and leave you in peace," Giselle muttered crossing her arms against her chest.

"Purhaps for a little while you can all do something Lysander can do with you."

"Story?" came a little hopeful voice from the end of the room. Tristian sighed pinched the bridge of his nose and refused to look anywhere at his nephew whom he couldn't deny anything. He nodded curtly and a moment later the patter of small feet hurtled across the room and onto his lap.

"Story?" Lysander reinterated hopefully blinking innocently and held up a book in his grubby hands. Apparently Lysander had come prepared.

Sighing Tristian opened the book at the first page, rearranged the baby, the small boy and his two daughters so that he was somewhat comfortable. "Once upon a time…"


	29. Chapter 29

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Twenty Nine. Subterfuge**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: 23****rd**** January 1061AD, 4:02pm**

Tristian swirled the murky looking mess that was the mature hellbore and hence his ticket into unveiling the future. It had been two days since he had awoken to the incredulous stares of his brothers.

Silas had shaken his head in grim sympathy. "Three little women," the Slytherin brother had groaned. "You poor harassed man."

"Perhaps you'll sire a boy child later," Axcel commented, in what he deemed to be an encouraging manner, only to be shoved in return by a disgruntled Tristian.

Tristian on the other hand had never dreamed of the possibility that he too might have his own family to look after. Children for him seemed to be as far removed a concept as the other side of the universe. It had struck him as odd to be staring at his 'daughters', while he was a little shy of being a man. He hadn't spoken to Marguerite of the little girls – Giselle and her fiery temper, Liona with her wild mane of red curls or Isa a young child of a will made of iron. But he knew without a doubt he loved them and could not understand his brothers' strange sympathy for him. He was happy, he realised, happy to have hope that he might have his own children and never mind the sex of the children. They were his and that would be the only thing that would ever matter.

It had been two days since his last attempt to TimeKeep, as Axcel had phrased it. And Tristian knew that he was ready to try again. There had been enough time for him to regather strength after his last adventure. Only this time it seemed a little more personal. He wanted to face his enemy alone.

Sighing heavily Tristian set the beaker of hellbore on his desk and turned about the room.

"Are you sure about this?" Sidonius muttered from underneath Tristian's feathered pillow.

"I've never been more certain in my life," Tristian replied staring at the foul mixture as if it had done some erroneous misdeed. "I've just realised how frightened I am."

"Frightened?" If hissing could sound incredulous, Tristian was sure that would be how Sidonius would sound. "Of what do you have to be afraid of?"

Tristian grimaced and turned his back on the hellbore. "What if I ruin all hope of a future for myself by going? Now that I have seen what I could possibly become and have I don't want to loose it."

Sidonius raised his diamond head and looked thoughtful. "But could you live with yourself if you don't act?"

"I thought you were supposed to be sly and cunning," Tristian muttered, "not encouraging me to do something that could possibly be dangerous."

Sidonius unfurled his scaly body and glance up to where Tristian was now pacing. "It's who you are… it's in your blood you can't deny it."

"I know," Tristian sighed. Without glancing at the horrible hellbore Tristian grabbed the mixture and sat swiftly on the bed. "Bottoms up…"

'

'

'

A matter of moments later Tristian found himself standing in the middle of a gloomy room. Glancing around, he found much to his elation that he was standing in the middle of a Death Eater gathering.

Voldemort himself was sitting at the front of the room under a dimmed light. Tristian spat in his foes direction, how dare that man turned snake sit and hold court. Tristian watched in fascination as Voldemort took no notice of his presences and languidly stretched his elongated fingers.

Taking a turn about the room Tristian studied the Death Eaters one by one. Bellatrix Lestrange stood regally by her master's shoulder. But even with the poise and elegance she bestowed Tristian was not fooled into believe the evil witch was not insane. Lucius Malfoy stood rigid to Voldemort's right and was only recognisable by his long platinum hair. Crabbe and Goyle shuffled like a pair of confused baboons in the corner and Wormtail sat simpering like a fool at the Dark Lord's feet.

Finally when Voldemort decided that there were enough Death Eaters in the room he began to speak.

"The old fool Dumbledore's death has rocked Hogwarts," Voldemort paused, entirely too dramatically in Tristian's opinion and let his gaze linger on each of his followers in turn. Tristian was shocked by the news of the old headmaster's death. For a moment he was dazed. Dumbledore couldn't be dead. He was one of those personalities that just could not die.

Tristian shifted around half expected to see Snape sneering at him from under a white boned mask. That was when he remembered that Snape was now known as the spy and traitor in Voldemort's camp. He shivered involuntarily; he would be in Snape's ugly predicament for nothing.

"The castle Hogwarts is weakening," Voldemort continued raking his long fingers down the cold stone armrest of this throne. "We are poised to attack and when we do we shall be unable to be defeated. Potter is gone… as much as it vexes me that the use of his blood has been removed I must remember small blessings. The boy-child's blood runs through my veins. Salazar's, the greatest founder of them all, power is building within me. Hogwarts will bend to my will and will recognise me as the son of the great serpent."

If there was one thing Voldemort loved to do it was gloat. How Tristian would have loved to appear and show Voldemort he had far from disappeared… He had returned.

"The pathetic little muggle born photographer has sold his soul to me for information on the disappearance of Potter," Voldemort twisted his sardonic smile and glanced to the smallest Death Eater who was swaying side to side as if he was no more than a lifeless animal.

With a gentleness that belied Voldemort's cruelty he flicked the hood back to reveal a small mousy haired snap happy boy. Or what was left of him. Tristian felt a rise of righteous anger at seeing the traitor close up. From his distance he could see that young Colin Creevy was physically unhurt, however the horrible white film of the younger wizard's pupils and the drool from his slack mouth told Harry another story.

Lucius Malfoy 'tsked' loudly. "A new form of inferi," Malfoy explained to his colleagues once he got the curt nod from his 'master'. "Unlike mainstream inferi Mr. Creevy is very much alive. His mind, body and soul however belong to our lord. His life is linked to our lord. He will perish once we have no longer any use for him."

Tristian snarled in revolution and watched as Colin slowly blinked dumbly as Malfoy roughly took hold of his chin. Not a noise of protest was made by the young Gryffindor.

"This is the fate of all who oppose us at the taking of Hogwarts." Lucius snapped Colin's head around so that his milky white eyes were staring over the assembly of death eaters.

Lucius released Colin's chin and regally wiped his glove hand on the boy's cloak. "The plan is simple. Colin Creevy will act as our decoy to have the wards opened at Hogwarts. I dare say dear Minerva McGonagall won't leave one of her precious cubs out in the danger… from there the attack should be straight forward. And Hogwarts will still fall."

Tristian thought that the teachers at Hogwarts would not so lightly fall for the trick. Colin Creevy most certainly didn't look like a safe character to be let into a warded area. He was obviously not himself. One Death Eater was stupid enough to voice Tristian's very question and was promptly rewarded with a round of crucios from his smirking master.

But Voldemort was never one not to boast of an achievement when given opportunity. If he wasn't a Dark Lord, Tristian was sure Voldemort would be in show business.

"He shall act normal if I will it," Voldemort purred reaching out and brushing the still boy's hair like one would do to a favourite pet. "He is mine… and he shall behave as I see fit."

'

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'

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: 23****rd**** January 1061AD, 5:32pm**

Tristian blinked his eyes and came face to face with Silas and Axcel. "We need to act fast," he said without preamble. "Hogwarts will surely fail if we do not."

Silas smiled grimly. "So no cute pictures of any more baby Axcels?"

Recalling Colin's dead milky eyes and vacant expression Tristian shivered violently. "Definitely not, but I know what the Dark Lord's plans are."

Axcel smirked. "So you didn't find out if I had a beard?"

"Hardly the important question that needs answering, Ax," Tristian mumbled massaging his head.

"So what do we do?"

"First we clean up for dinner," Silas said answering Axcel's question. "Then we lay our plans."

'

'

'

Saladin glared around the room at each witch or wizard in turn that Tristian was determined was coming to the future with him to defeat the worrisome Lord Voldemort. He had rather liked to have thought that with Malic dead and gone that his grandsons would no longer have anything to fear. Salazar had also seemed displeased with Tristian's deep need to 'save the world' but had uncharacteristically shrugged the difficulty aside telling him that Tristian's need was apart of him that could not be taken away.

"Even if I could take that part of Tristian away, I would not father," Salazar had told him firmly last night. "I would not see any part of my son harmed."

Saladin sighed long sufferingly and glanced to where Godric and Saladin had flanked the three boys as if their position in the circle could ultimately protect them in the upcoming 'adventure.' Rowena Ravenclaw by Salazar's shoulder, her eyes sparkling excitedly. Saladin had a strong suspicion that she was going out of 'academic interest' only. Helga, demure as ever, was following along with this inane stupidity because she was loyal to the other three founders of the school. Nothing could be said to persuade her to stay behind. Her soft heart aside, Helga was a formidable woman when riled and even a more frightening duellist.

Marguerite the French, Tristian's intended betrothed, stood a little to Helga's right. Saladin could see the girl twisting her Gryffindor robes in worry but nothing else in her countenance betrayed her nervousness. Her face was a picture of calm assurance and tranquillity. Yes, Saladin decided, she was a good match for his Tristian.

Tristian stood on the line of the chalked in circle and shuddered. "Ready?" Godric's strong voice inquired. Tristian nodded firmly and ungracefully plonked himself on the floor followed by his brothers.

The four founders and Marguerite seated themselves in a more befitting manner. The gaps in the circle were closed by the joined hands. And a moment later Tristian was the only one sitting.

A lonely sigh escaped Saladin's lips as he picked up the steaming hellbore. "Be careful, Tristian," Saladin said and for a moment his eyes connected with Tristian's.

Tristian nodded curtly and his lips formed a straight line but he didn't let go of Axcel's or Silas' hands. Saladin brought the cup to Tristian's lips and the younger wizard drank deeply. Just before Tristian seemed to faint into unconsciousness Saladin caught him and lowered him to the ground, careful not to break the circle lest Tristian was left alone.

Glancing down at the tight grim lines on Tristian's face Saladin couldn't help but smooth his grandson's hair from his face. Now it was up to him to watch and wait.


	30. Chapter 30

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Thirty. Back to the Future**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: 23****rd**** January 1997, 5:32pm**

Severus Snape, Professor, Head of Slytherin House and bane to everything Gryffindor was not impressed. Albus Dumbledore's unfortunate and unforeseen death had hit the security of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry hard. The old headmaster's death ultimately meant a larger work load for the remaining teachers and in particular Head of Houses.

With the headmaster's passing classes could not continue as the extra work load to keep the castle and occupants safe was a gruelling task. Snape was very much aware that he was working hard in order to keep his own life and that of the remaining Slytherins. His actions defending the castle against an onslaught of Death Eaters had meant certain of a long torturous death if he was captured.

Certain of his fate and the fate of any Slytherin unwilling to help the Dark Lord into Hogwarts casle, Snape had taken to carrying a vial of extremely fast working poison. If the school was destined to be overrun by Death Eaters, Snape would drink the poison instead of risking capture, torture and excoriating death. Most students also had this option. It was of little comfort that if – if they couldn't escape Voldemort in this life then they would flee to the afterlife.

Bending over the contents of his cauldron Snape glanced up as his college Minerva McGonagall dashed in through the door. Too exhausted to make a biting comment he sneered in her direction and turned back to his work.

"Colin Creevy has been spotted," McGonagall told him excitedly. Snape glared up at her. News of Gryffindor well being was welcome in his dungeons; not when most of his snakes had already given up hope of living.

Even though McGonagall seemed to have energy back into her sternly steely grey eyes, Snape still thought she looked haggarded. She had been looking peeky since Albus' rushed funeral, (even through which Death Eaters had attacked the castle).

"I'm going to go get him and bring him through the wards," McGonagall told him. "You're in charge."

Snape stretched his neck and sent a sidelong glance over at his much older colleague. "Minerva you're exhausted," Snape said surprising himself by his uncharacteristic tone. "I'll go and get the Gryffindor whelp." He tried to finish his sentence with a sneer but he failed miserably.

Minerva stared long and hard at him as if she could not believe her ears. Grumbling Snape flicked his wand over the cauldron and the viscous substance disappeared. Collecting his long cloak by the door Severus Snape swept past McGonagall and closed the door behind him only to find that Blaise and Draco had been keeping vigil by his door.

"What are you two up to?" Snape demanded a little harshly.

Ever confident Blaise blinked slowly and stepped up to his head of house. "Is there anything we can do to help, sir?"

Snape sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Take a register of everyone who does not make it back to their dorms before the dinner curfew. I'll deal with them personally." Since the attack on Hogwarts, students had been eating meals in their dormentries as the Great Hall had been identified as not safe. Curfew was brought back to curfew. "Find two responsible students from the other houses to do the same thing."

Blaise nodded and smiled gently up at his head of house. "Of course sir."

Draco merely sighed in response.

Satisfied Snape continued through the darkening halls of the dugeons. "Should bring back the cane," he muttered. "Honestly no wonder McGonagall is looking haggard with all those Gryffindors running riot. A good caning is what they need."

As Snape stalked out from the Entrance Hall and out onto the grounds he felt the air about him shift distinctly. He stopped dead in his tracks glanced around and wrapped his cloak tighter about him. "Hello. Who's there?" No one answered him. "Come out now…"

Snape shook his head sadly. "Becoming even more paranoid than Mad-Eye," he sniffed indigently. "But then Mad-Eye was right about paranoia he was murdered in his own bed."

A few hundred meters away from the edge of the wards, Snape could see the Creevy boy standing. Cursing Gryffindor stupidity he stalked as meancingly as he could towards the errant school boy. Colin Creevy did not move.

"CREEVY!" Snape yelled from a distance. Colin Creevy did not move.

Outrageously Colin Creevy stood and waited stoicaly for Snape to reach him and the boarder of the wards. Snape was just about to let the wards drop to pull the child through when he felt the distinct shifting of air about him.

"Potter?"

Only silence met his ears. "Wait until I get my hands on you, Creevy, you'll be potion ingredients yet."

"No!" A slim hand clasped his wrist firmly and pushed his wand away. Incredous and angry Snape whipped around to come face to face with sea green eyes that were oh-so familiar. "You'll be potion ingredients if you let him through… it's a trap sir you have to believe me."

"Potter?" Snape hissed. "So you managed to change the glamour after all."

The new Potter shook his head violently. "It's Tristian Wolfe now. But that doesn't matter… I've heard Voldemort's plans. It's a trap."

As expected Snape flinched at the Dark Lord's name and clasped his left elbow. "Don't say his name!" Snape hissed through clenched teeth.

Tristian shook his head. "We need to move now!"

Snape lowered his wand and glanced at the Creevy boy who was oddly silent through the exchange. With a quick wand movement Snape pulled up the wards. No sooner had he accomplished his task a beam of familiar green spell hit the Creevy child and he slumped silently on the floor.

"McGonagall is not going to be pleased, Potter," Snape snarled as he turned in a flurry of black cloak and darted back to the castle.

"It was a mercy, trust me," Tristian grimaced over the still form of Colin Creevy and turned to keep stride with his teacher.

They reached the Entrance Hall a few moments later, panting for breath. Closing the large wooden doors via magic Snape turned to Tristian who was regarding him silently. Tristian's regard turned towards the empty space of the Entrance Hall.

"Perform a spell and he'll be able to see you," Tristian said.

Snape thought the younger wizard was going insane until the Entrance Hall was lit with seven lumos spells. Then slowly feet and robes began to appear, followed by torsos, necks and heads. Snape's wand was back in his hand in a blink of an eye.

"Who are these people, Potter?" Snape demanded.

"Wolfe, Tristian Wolfe… I'm here to help, Professor. I know we didn't always get along." Tristian pointedly ignored Snape's snort and continued. "I'm able to travel back and forth through time."

"You disappeared," Snape muttered, "Gryffindor's Golden boy left when we needed him the most."

"Gryffindor's Golden Boy?" Axcel sniffed. "That's my title…"

Tristian rolled his eyes. "Professor I don't know how to begin to explain what happened. But I'm able to return and help…"

Snape shifted uncomfortably and glared at the occupants in the room. "You still haven't answered my other question."

Blushing Tristian waved his hand in Salazar's direction. "My father, Salazar Slytherin and brother Silas Slytherin."

Salazar swept past Tristian's shoulder and bowed midway. "Pleasure to finally meet the teacher of my… my rather unorthodox son."

Snape struggled to find something to say. "The pleasure is all mine, sir," he said with a bow of his head and for once losing his biting edge.

"My other father, Godric Gryffindor and my brother Axcel Gryffindor," Tristian continued as Godric followed the lead of Salazar and greeted the potion master formally.

"This is Lady Rowena Ravenclaw and Lady Helga Hufflepuff and… Marguerite: my intended."

"Intended?" Snape's dark eyes glittered, enjoying how repeating one word could make the younger wizard blush. "My, my, my, your fans will be most upset."

Taking Marguerite's hand Snape bowed low deliberately and brushed his thin lips delicately over her elegant fingers. "Charmed, I'm sure," Snape drawled slowly. "I can tell you all sorts of stories about your intended."

"Yes. Well we haven't got all day," Tristian snapped irratiably blushing red at Salazar's meaningful gaze.

Snape sighed heavily and requlished Marguerite's hand. "I suppose you want me to take you to your darling Gryffindor friends."

"No. Actually," Tristian returned quickly. "I wanted to speak to Malfoy and Zabini first."

If Snape was surprised he didn't show it. He turned quickly on his heal and with his cloak billowing out behind him as his personal tradition demanded lead them to the dungeons with a loping stalk.

"Interesting sort of fellow," Axcel remarked whispering in Tristian's ear. Tristian raised an eye brow and gave his Gryffindor brother a quirky smile.

"I like him," Silas continued.

Tristian snorted. "You would."

Snape led them through dimly lit corridors and deeper down into Slytherin dungeon terriority. Tristian noticed somewhat grimly that Salazar had taken his post very close to his shoulder, while Godric was positively glowering at anything that dared move. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. He supposed his fathers could only trust their luck so far.

Snape finally stopped at the familiar entrance of the Slytherin common room. Glancing conspirciously behind his back Snape whispered the password to the Slytherin demain barely moving his lips, as if Tristian and company could not be trusted.

Rowena Ravenclaw rolled her eyes haughtily with a muttered, "Honestly!"

Helga playfully slapped her arm and her eyes danced over the dungeon walls. "I've never been in a dungeon before," she told Rowena rather proudly.

Tristian coughed down the incredulous snort at that sour expression on Snape's face but was ushered quickly by the dour Potions Master by Salazar himself. The two elder Slytherins coolly studied each other intently behind a cool air of indifference.

Stepping through the entrance of the Slytherin Common Room, cool dungeon air swept up into Tristian's face. The Slytherins barely took any notice of the medieval wizards. It took a little while for Tristian to remember that they couldn't see them.

"Draco, Blaise," Snape called.

Draco was the first to respond he stood without his usual swagger and stood by his Head of House. Apparently he had been expected to be summoned. Blaise nodded from where he was supporting himself on the wall nearby and moved sluggishly over, dark eyes glue morosely to the floor.

"No Slytherins to report," Draco told the Potion Master in a hushed whisper. "The Gryffindors seemed subdue."

"Hardly suprising considering," Blaise drawled and shook his head.

"And Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."

Draco snorted. "Most of the Ravenclaws were feverishly trying to save the library."

"Idoits," Blaise rejoined with an inelegant snort, "We had to _persuade_ them to leave. They won't be going anywhere near the library for a while."

Tristian didn't like the way Blaise had lilted the word 'persaude'. He shuddered almost feeling sorry for the Ravenclaws for incurring the Slytherin duo's persuasion.

Snape shook his head morosely and nodded to Tristian. "Well you wanted to speak to Blaise and Draco, reveal yourself." Snape's cool voice was enough to garner the attention of one hundred percentage of the Slytherins in the vicinity. Aware that every eye was glued to the apparent direction of the 'air' Snape was talking to, Tristian flicked his wand and with a simple 'wingardium leviosa' Snape was leviatated off the floor as Tristian was revealed to the Slyterin population.

Tristian set a snarling potions professor down calmly and turned to Draco and Blaise. "I'm Tristian Wolfe formly known as Harry Potter and I'm here to help."

"Help?" Draco cried so incredulously that his voice squeaked. "You help us?"

"Madness?" Blaise snarled. "You Gryffindor are our enemy."

Tristian shook his head sadly. "Look I didn't travel from one thousand years in the past with all the founders and some extras to fight with you. I _can_ help?"

Draco didn't look at all convinced. "How?" he demanded.

"Remember what Snape was able to do on the tower during the attack?" Tristian returned, fighting to keep his temper in check. "That.was.me!"

"You? How?" Blaise demanded harshly lifting his chin slightly.

"I pushed my magical signataure through Snape. Because my body is back in the past I am limited through doing spells through others."

"A medium in other words," Draco concluded. "You want us to act as mediums."

"You were right Draco?"

"Eh?" There was one thing Draco never expected to hear. And that was for a Gryffindor to admit that he was right. "I was?"

"That first day on the train; we could be a great team."

"If you are thinking what I think your small incorriable Gryffindor mind is thinking then you're suicidal."

"All things in this life that are valuable are worth fighting and dying for: freedom, family, friends…"

Draco shook his head.

"Slavery at Voldemort's feet isn't you Draco. You're a pureblooded proud Slytherin… you could be so much more than what your father is but you need to fight for it. Think of it as fighting for the Malfoy name."

"As much as your words are inspiring General Potter," Theodore Nott said from across the room. "You've missed the point. Our families are only something if they join with Voldemort."

Tristian glanced to Snape to see if he was going to get any help or back up. Snape just stood there, his arms crossed against his chest and not moving a muscle. Concluding that he was alone in his campaign, Tristian continued, "Not if Voldemort and his minions are brought to justice. If you fight and win all of you could start new dynasties of pureblood families that are free from Voledmort's control and toture. The question is are you willing to make a gamble with a possibility of winning or are you going to sit here like a rabbit in his burrow waiting to be made into rabbit pie?"

Draco shifted uneasily and glanced around at his fellow Slytherins. "Do you really think we can win this?"

"Why not?" Tristian snorted. "I've a power the 'dark lord knows not' and I've brought help."

With a whispered spell each of Tristian's companions were revealed to the gathered Slytherins.

"Will you fight?" Salazar demanded stepping forward. For the first time Tristian truly appreciated the mere power and majesty of his Slytherin father. "Will you be the generation to restore Slytherin's pride and glory?"

"Meh," Blaise said waving his hand. "Potter's right, as much as we are loathed to admit it, what else is there to do?"

'

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'

Thinking of doing a series of one shots and missing pieces and alternative scenes to this story. Any requests let me know! Kyleigh/ Illeanah


	31. Chapter 31

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Chapter Thirty One. He Who Lives By the Sword **

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: 23****rd**** January 1997, 9:13pm**

Tristian huddled by Severus Snape's side unseen my many eyes. Nervously he glanced around to where Axcel was standing over Ron and Hermione grinning despite the freezing night air. Draco and Blaise seemed a little perturbed by Silas' quiet presence and even more so by Salazar who was draped in darkness nearby.

Marguerite, Godric, Ravenclaw had left with Professor McGonagall and Madam Pompfrey, who though a mediwitch was a skilled duellist in any case. Tristian surmised that her skills with her wand had been honed by chasing after escaping patients, namely Gryffindors.

Wiping his growing fringe out his way, Tristian once more glanced over to where Ron and Hermione were ready for battle. He was relived that they both now knew that he was not dead. His neck was still burning from where Hermione had squealed and gave him a bear hug; much to Axcel's amusement and Marguerite's displeasure.

'

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**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: 23****rd**** January 1997, 6:01pm **

Tristian never recalled a time where he was more nervous than what he was feeling now. He stood invisible to living human eye in the middle of the Gryffindor Common Room. As he had anticipated all the Gryffindors froze as the feared Potions Master stepped through the portrait of the Fat Lady.

Tristian watched as Snape's lips moved but no sound reach his ears. It was surreal to be standing in the one place that had quickly became, his home and amongst his family in the Gryffindor House. Choking back his emotion he took his time glancing from face to face.

He missed Neville's friendly, quiet smile and Colin's irritating flash of his camera and he missed Hermione's lectures about completing his homework, potions assignment or reading Hogwarts: A History.

Tristian came back to himself when he felt Snape's coldest, hardest stare. Turning towards the dour potions master he saw that indeed Snape was staring at him intently with his fathomless obsidian eyes.

Taking Snape's menacing glare Tristian revealed himself with a simple spell. His companions did the same.

The reaction was instantaneous. Most Gryffindors had there wands out and ready to duel before Tristian could count to two.

Raising his hands in mock surrender Tristian worked his mouth to say something but found his voice would not work. Instead all that came from his lips was a strangled squeak.

Godric came up behind him to squeeze his shoulders comfortingly, which only to serve Tristian becoming even more emotional in front of his Gryffindor friends. "Hi… I'm back…" Tristian managed wiping his eyes in what he hoped was a dignified manner. Judging from the roll of Silas' muttered, "Gryffindors", his shake of his head and roll of his eyes, Tristian didn't come to close to masking how he was feeling. Indeed Hufflepuff was bouncing on her feet and clapping her hands in glee.

The Gryffindor students slowly gathered towards the centre of the room staring intently at Tristian. Tristian dropped his hand which was half way up in a wave of greeting feeling immensely foolish.

"Harry?" A hesitant voice asked. The sea of Gryffindor's split revealing Ron Weasley, who was sitting in a chair by the fire.

Tristian could only smile in response and nodded his head. "It's Tristian Wolfe, now mate."

Ron gave let out an exultant whoop of joy, which sounded more like a Quidditch war cry, dove off the chair and dashed through the other Gryffindors. "I knew you would come back. I knew it. I just knew it," Ron babbled taking Tristian's shoulders and shaking him a little too eagerly. Suddenly Ron's expression changed to irradiation. "Just where have you been mate, everyone was so worried about you!"

"I know and I'm sorry Ron," Tristian muttered. "It wasn't like I had any choice in the matter."

Ron pulled back looking a little embarrassed. "Yes. Well don't do it again."

"You look well Ron," Tristian commented. "I think you've gained another foot! You still dwarf me!" It was true the youngest Weasley was tall and gangly as ever.

"And you look…" Ron waved his hand about trying to find the right word. "… medieval."

Tristian snorted. "Listen I have a plan. Could you get Hermione for me and the members of the DA.?"

Ron glanced at Snape whose eyebrows merely rose into his inky black fringe at the mention of the DA.

"Who wants me?" a voice demanded from the girls' stair case. Tristian glanced up to see Hermione standing in the shadows. Her mane of curls has seemed to have been tamed in the time that he was away; her intelligent eyes were flushed red from crying.

Tristian stepped forward. "Hello Hermione. You might not recognise me…but it's me… Harry."

Hermione's features froze, her deep chocolate eyes blinked slowly as the news slowly seeped into her astute mind. "Harry?"

Tristian nodded and braced himself as Hermione uncharacteristically launched herself off the stairs, threw the mob of Gryffindors and crush him in a bushy haired fierce bear hug… sobbing the whole time.

"Er… there, there," Tristian said stiffly patting Hermione's back gently.

"I thought you were dead…" Hermione sniffled pulling away and smiling through her moist eyes. "I was certain of it."

"Yes and as heart warming this all is, Mr er… Potter, I would like to know what your fantastic plan is before the Dark Lord brings the castle down on all of our heads!"

Trust Snape to ruin the moment.

'

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**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: 23****rd**** January 1997, 9:15pm**

Tristian shuffled uneasily as Snape moved slowly forward into the tree line that would only separate them from the Dark Lord and his minions. He didn't think to ask his ex – professor if he was at all nervous. Did the tall dark and foreboding man trust his instincts or power? Tristian wished he knew the answer or at least what Snape was thinking.

"Professor," Tristian whispered as quietly as he dared.

Snape whipped around to glare at him with his glittering dark eyes. Tristian swallowed but was determined to continue despite feeling like a naughty first year.

"I just wanted to say thank you for trusting me," Tristian continued. "And thank you for always telling me the truth, even though you hate me."

Snape shook his head in disbelief. "Quiet Mr Wolfe," he snapped harshly.

Tristian took that as Snape's way of saying you're welcome and settled himself by the tree to wait. Slow minutes ticked by and yet they heard nothing to betray the fact that Voldemort was near by. Muscles cramping and complaining in the frigid night air Tristian stretched and rolled his shoulders shooting another glance at the small company and shivered.

A moment later he realised that Salazar was gone. For the briefest of moment's Tristian's heart stopped beating as he frantically searched for his snake founder father.

It was only when a cold hand rested on Tristian's shoulder he paused and came face to face with Salazar. "Change of plans, my son," Salazar told him gently but firmly.

Tristian opened his mouth to argue but Salazar silenced him with a simple wave of his hand. Snape looked fascinated that Tristian actually shut up at the signal.

"I will look after the potion's master and our magic will work together. Use our appearance as a diversion. Get to the Dark Lord Voldemort and finishing him while you cannot be seen."

Tristian nodded his head fervently to let Salazar know that he understood the command. He felt a lump forming in this throat. Salazar rested his hand on Tristian's shoulder.

"Your job after finishing the Dark Lord Voldemort is to pull back and to make sure the others get to safety. Let your elders look after themselves. Do you understand?"

Tristian understood. "But…"

"Hush." Salazar's grip on his shoulder became more pronounced. "Keep yourself, your brothers and young friends safe at all times."

"But…"

Salazar shook his head. "Ah my stubborn viper, you are not responsible for ensuring everyone gets out unscathed. Don't dare step a toe over the line of my commandments or you'll be listening with more than your ears, me boy."

Tristian reddened at the incredulous look on Snape's face. The dour potions master looked distinctly like Christmas had visited him early.

Salazar moved closer in the darkness and squeezed Tristian's shoulder tightly. Tristian could have sworn he heard a whispered spell above his ear but the words were snatched away in the night air.

'

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**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: 23****rd**** January 1997, 9:47pm**

Tristian stared at the piece of bark above his head. He was terribly bored. He rolled his shoulders once more and peered through the darkness.

"Not long now," Salazar whispered. Tristian looked up at his father, who had not moved a muscle since their confrontation. Salazar's eyes were raised upwards into the night sky watching intently.

Tristian wanted to ask how he knew Voldemort was close by, but he held his tongue. That's when he saw it. A star that hung above his head dimmed then was extinguished from the night sky. He shivered involuntarily as a neighbour star's light was also cut off… and then another and another… Soon only the moonlight was the only light left in the night sky.

Tristian hated to admit it but the stars slowly and eerily disappearing was undoubtedly creepy. An owl hooted uncomfortably in the night. Tristian strained his ear until he thought he heard the swishing of a long cloak along the ground.

Beside Tristian, Snape stiffened and squared his shoulder. Looking down Tristian watched Snape's hand clamp onto his long black wand, but the potions master rose steadily and peered into the night.

The forms of Voldemort and his minions came slowly. Long black shadows in the darkness, distinctly only by the swaying movement of their garments.

Snape smiled grimly and with a curt nod stepped into the darkness wand at the ready. Salazar followed him not far behind his hand on the potions master's shoulder but unseen by the undaunted death eaters.

Tristian followed at a steady pace circling carefully to his left so that he stood in an arc away from Snape as his father. He jumped when Voldemort suddenly stopped and hissed an angry greeting at Professor Snape. Mentally kicking himself Tristian forcibly reminded himself that Voldemort could not see him or indeed didn't seem to be able to sense his presence.

"So Severus Snape, my black mamba has returned to die at his old master's hand," Voldemort gloated slowly as his minion sniggered behind him.

"I do not pretend to delude myself into thinking that I am of importance to die by your wand," Snape remarked dryly. Tristian thought he might have seen the professor roll his eyes in Voldemort's dramatics.

Voldemort hissed angrily his deep red eyes burning like embers in the fire. "We'll see if you have any cheek left to give once I am finished with you."

Tristian crept forward from where he was standing immobilised, watching through the corner of his eye as Salazar placed his palms on Snape's shoulders. Snape's thin lips did not even move for an incantation as Salazar's raw magic swept through his body and manifested in physical form, which Tristian identified as surprisingly ice.

Thin, frozen whips of ice crackled through the clearing wrapping themselves around the ankles and waists of Voldemort's minions. Screams of agony rent through the air and Tristian used the cover of the eerie cries to approach Voldemort without challenge.

Tristian jumped over a growing finger of ice as it passed him by. A tree nearby withered and burned. That was when he realised the ice was acidic. Shuddering in revulsion at the mere thought of what acidic ice could do – Tristian surged forward more carefully this time.

A strong fierce wind held the Death Eaters at bay from the other side of the clearing the spell created by Marguerite and Ravenclaw through Madam Pomphrey, while McGonagall was wielding an invisible sword controlled by Godric, who was grinning wildly.

Behind Salazar and Snape, Draco, Blaise and Silas were creating havoc by blinding Death Eaters who strayed their way, while Hermione, Ron and Axcel was manipulating any spells created by any unfortunate Death Eaters to stop in midair before attacking the ranks from hence it had originated from.

"He's bought reinforcements!" a Death Eater cried, the white bone mask slipped revealing a confused and disorientated Bella Estrange.

"Draco!" Lucius cried as he was simultaneously blinded and furled in unforgiving ice. "My own son!"

"Who are you?" Voldemort demanded, protected on all sides by his elite Death Eaters, (minus a few unfortunates). "Who are you that you would defy me?"

Salazar snarled in response and pushed Snape out of the way of a nasty hex – which conveniently went straight through him. "Did you honestly think that you could harm something of mine and not pay the consequences?"

Voldemort seemed to contemplate this reply and seemingly unhappy with the response. "Who are you? I have not harmed anything of yours."

"Only one of my sons," Salazar answered carefully. "Pure blooded sons and daughters are very precious. But a young Slytherin… no you could never have claimed what is mine."

Tristian who was now standing unseen behind Voldemort rolled his eyes at his Slytherin father's dramatics.

Voldemort seemed to have paled somewhat. "You can't be you're dead."

"I would return from the dead to protect my own," Salazar said inspecting his nails and glancing up as Lucius Malfoy stumbled past, skin burning and blind. "Pity; that."

"Salazar Slytherin?"

"The one and only," Salazar continued before tilting his head in Tristian's direction. "Tristian for pity's sake finish him."

Voldemort pivoted on the balls of his feet, turning every which way. With a simple 'lumos' Tristian revealed himself.

"I cannot be," Voldemort muttered, "You disappeared. You can't come back."

"I'm back alright," Tristian snarled grabbing hold of Voldemort's sleeve and pushing as much of his magical energy behind him. Tendrils of smoke started to appear along the hems of the cloak. Orange fingers of flames quickly slithered up Voldemort's sleeves as he screamed in anger, agony and confusion.

"For my mother."

The flames turned to a brilliant blue as Voldemort's torso caught alight. Still Tristian held on.

"For my father."

The blue slowly changed to a lighter colour becoming increasingly hotter and more powerful.

"For my friends."

The flames became invisible to the naked eye, but Tristian could see Voldemort's skin bubble, blistered, melt and char.

"For my family."

Tristian looked into Voldemort's twisted dying face.

"But most of all you bastard, it's for me."

And so Voldemort died in agony, staring into the cool sea green eyes of the boy-who-lived.


	32. Chapter 32

**Phoenix Tears Rising**

**An Alternate Year Six Book**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

**Epilogue … Dies by the Sword**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: 23****rd**** January 1997, 10:32pm**

Tristian sank onto his knees a little way from the clearing and promptly threw up the contents of his stomach. A feat that he thought was impossible considering that his physical body was back in the middle ages. He sniffled and ran his sleeve over his nose, which didn't help, as he could still smell the bubbling burning flesh of his enemy.

As he promised he retreated from the skirmish and helped Axcel and Silas' teams at the outskirts before they too retreated.

Draco had shaken his hand before wandering back in the dark. He looked a tad peaky when Blaise congratulated him on becoming the new 'Lord Malfoy'. Snape retreated quickly, with a curt nod in Tristian's direction he set out after Draco with Blaise on his heels.

Axcel and Silas sat together whispering, waiting for their fathers to return from the clearing. Hermione and Ron looked eager to speak with him, but Tristian made an excuse to leave and relieve his churning stomach. After what he just did he didn't feel much like human company.

Head bowed forward Tristian shuddered violently. He was so cold he was numb. Unfortunately, his cloak somehow got tangled in Salazar acid ice and he had to leave it behind tattered and ruined.

Warm arms embraced him tightly. "I'm so tired," Tristian whispered weakly. "And cold."

"You've held us long enough here," Godric voice said above his ear. "It's time to say goodbye."

Tristian raised his head wearily and glanced up aware he was still shivering. "I feel horrible."

Godric seemed to understand he wasn't talking about the cold. "Even through the destiny fate has dealt you, you are not a killer my son."

Tristian sighed, for a moment he was unwilling to let the warm that engulfed him go. Godric however helped him to his feet and wrapped him in his own large woollen cloak.

As father and son emerged Hermione and Ron stood. Hermione painfully aware that this was goodbye, while Ron was hoping above all hopes he would not have to let go again.

Godric let Tristian approach his friends alone aware of the younger wizard's need to have space.

"I guess this is goodbye then," Tristian murmured wrapping the cloak about his shoulders tightly. "Say hello and thank you to your family, Ron."

Ron nodded blinking furiously at the tears that threatened to flow. Not caring for the other Gryffindor's unease with hugs, Tristian wrapped his arms about Ron tightly. "I have to go."

"You can't leave me!" Ron muttered tearfully, fingers gripping harshly into Tristian's cloak. "Must you?"

Tristian nodded. "I fear I may have stayed too long already."

Reluctantly Ron let Tristian go and let him say his goodbyes to Hermione. Drying his eyes Tristian pulled a slim book from his cloak and handed it to Hermione. "I knew you wouldn't forgive me if I didn't write down my one time opportunity to live in medieval times. I figured you could read it and then give Ron a summary. You and I both know he'll never read it." Tristian glanced at his red haired friend who was grinning sheepishly.

"For you I just might," Ron muttered mutinously.

"Thank you," Hermione muttered as she took the book gingerly and turned it over. She contemplated the cover of the book and let her fingers trace over the delicate title page. "Hogwarts: A History According to Tristian Wolfe AKA Harry Potter."

As Tristian had predicted Hermione's started to water as she pulled Tristian into a rib breaking hug. "Thank you."

McGonagall stepped forward slowly, her immaculate bun pulled out and her stern face softened. "Mr. Potter."

"Thank you professor, for everything," Tristian offered her his hand. "I'm sure you'll rebuild the school perfectly and wherever Dumbledore is he would be proud."

McGonagall sniffed into her hanky and Tristian offered his hand to Madam Pomphrey who was fussing over Marguerite who had a vicious cut above her eye. "Thank you Madam Pomphrey, I know we Gryffindors very rarely show our appreciation. Think of it this way you no longer need to reserve my bed for me."

Madam Pomphrey smiled gently and Tristian turned once more to Ron and Hermione. "Expect a visit sometime!"

And then all was black.

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**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: 12****th**** May 1079 AD, 5:32am**

Tristian curled up in his sheets and savoured the early morning comfort of the barely awake state. When the door to his bedchambers opened he moaned irritably and turned over pretending to be asleep. Small feet padded across the floor and by the time Tristian had counted to ten the dipped under the weight of his children.

"Papa! Papa!" Small hands tapped his face encouragingly.

"That's it Marcel he can't ignore that," one of his daughter's whispered. Tristian groaned through the insistent tapping on his cheeks.

"They're yours this morning," Marguerite murmured turning over and leaving him to the ministrations of his children. Tristian could have pouted but he dearly wished he could sleep for just another moment.

A small body was using his mid-section as a see-saw. Little feet had kicked his ribs twice. "Tickle his tummy Lewis, Papa can't stand that," Isa's voice said through Tristian's subconscious.

Not wanting to be left at the mercy of his son's tickling Tristian rolled over and sat up. "Happy now, Papa's awake." No sooner than he sat up Tristian found his lap full of two cheeky twin boys. "Yes good morning Marcel and Lewis," Tristian muttered ruffling the boy's curly black tufts. "You could have at least brushed the boys' hair before getting Papa out of bed."

Giselle, who was standing at the end of the bed, looked innocently at him. "Don't you remember what day today will be?"

Tristian blinked dumbly.

"Today you said we could visit Aunt Hermione, Uncle Ron and his family," Liona informed him sternly. "And we want to play Quidditch with the boys. Grandmama Dupont never lets us doing anything remotely interesting."

Tristian grimaced.

"And you said Aunty Ginny had a new baby!" Isa squealed. "And I want to play with Cousin Alexandra." Tristian was not sure if Isa playing with Alexandra Weasley was good or bad. While his daughters seemed to have difficulty getting on with girls in medieval times they quickly befriended the Weasley children of the future. Alexandra Weasley just happened to be Fred Weasley's only daughter and only female grandchild… it went without saying that Alexandra was a handful at times and doted upon. Isa adored her 'Cousin Alexandra', which of course did not please his mother-in-law, her Ladyship Dupont.

Tristian rolled out of bed mindful of the two toddlers, Isa and Liona and pulled on a new shirt and smiled dotingly at his children. And decided, yes, life was good.

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Thanks to all of those you enjoyed the story.

Soon I'll have some one shots up with missing scenes and alternative scenes etc… look out for those. Feel free to make requests. Kyleigh/ Illeana


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